Cheating Fate
by She Who Shines
Summary: When the gods get bored and make a bet, it results in the resurrection of a manic Assassin - Teatime, of course - , the birth of a mostly human, the befuddlement of Death, and one cranky Susan.-set several years after 'One Dangerous Game'-
1. Just a Dream

**Author's Notes:** **The only reason I'm writing this is because I thought it would be FUN to write. It's probably the most absurd, out there idea I've ever had, but it's tons of fun to play with and I thought that maybe it'd be fun to read. Sorry it's so crazy.**

**Disc-claimer: **If I owned the discworld, it'd be even crazier than it already is - as this fanfiction proves. No, I'm just a lowly wanna-be writer who loves this world with enough passion to do an author's equivalent of 'doodling' with it**. THE DISC BELONGS TO TERRY PRATCHETT!  
**

***  
CHAPTER ONE  
Just a Dream  
***

Susan's hair shifted frantically in a foggy, tangling mess around her head. She hadn't seen it this out of control since she'd been sixteen. Of course, the schoolteacher wasn't paying her hair any mind. She was more preoccupied with something else.

Susan paced her apartment frantically. Her legs kept kicking out in front of her as she shifted back and forth, back and forth. She was feeling nauseous, but she didn't bother to acknowledge that. It was part of the problem.

Susan opened up her calendar and frantically double checked the dates.

"It isn't possible," she hissed. "It _isn't possible!_"

She weighed herself on the scale again, just to be sure. Yes, she'd gained weight. That was saying something, as she still looked skinny as a twig. Susan felt like screaming as she plopped onto the couch and reality came crashing down on her. She was too weak to fight it anymore, and there she sat, looking dumbstruck.

"But it was just a _dream..._" she said quietly, so lost and confused.

But there was no getting around it. There was no denying it. Susan had missed her time of the month for the second time in a row, she had gained weight, she was feeling nauseous, and she hadn't been so moody since puberty.

"I can't be _pregnant_."

***

FLASH BACK

Two Months

***

"It was such a tragic tale..." Astoria sobbed. "It was so _sad_. Now they'll never..." she sniffed, her throat choking, "they'll never..." she coughed, "they'll _never..._"

"Oh, shut it," Fate groaned. "You've been going on about this for _so long _now. Really."

"I can't get over it!" she wailed, shaking her fists.

"You seemed fine when we went to that party last week," the Lady commented dryly.

"It's not even actual _love,_" Fate said. "He'd kill her in a snap."

"But he _loved _her!"

"No he didn't."

"I should know!" Astoria shrieked, standing to her feet. "I _am _love!"

The Lady raised a brow.

"If he loved her he wouldn't have been so sadistic in his last moments," Fate countered.

"He was _hurt. _Theirs is an epic romance that I will not have you slander!" the goddess called sharply.

The Lady listened intently.

"Oh, come now. I bet if someone paid him to do it he'd kill her without a second thought. I bet if he were given more time on the disc we'd see how incapable of love he is," Fate said sharply.

Astoria looked ready to explode.

"I'll take that bet," the Lady said calmly, interrupting her fellow goddess before she had a chance to speak. "Let's play with our pawns, shan't we? Let's see who wins."

"...And if I do win," Fate asked, "if I do, what do I get?"

The Lady rung her hands idly.

"You get my pawn. And if I win I get _your _pawn."

"Which pawns?"

"The pawns we'll play with, of course."

"One little problem," Blind Io, who to this second had been watching in amusement, pointed out. "Teatime's dead."

"One can work around such trifles," Fate replied dismissively. "After all, we _are _gods."

*

Teatime's eyes snapped open and he found himself sitting on a couch in the middle of a red room. A man was standing with his arms folded behind his back professionally. He had empty eyes. Teatime blinked slowly, before standing himself.

"Is this the afterlife, sir? Is one Susan Sto-Helit expected here anytime soon, sir?"

Now Fate blinked.

"Yes, the afterlife should be expecting the woman of whom you speak very shortly," the god replied.

"Very shortly in terms of human life, or in terms of the universe?" the Assassin asked.

Fate blinked again.

"And what do you mean by that, boy?"

Teatime flinched.

"I admit that I am most young compared to many, but I am not a boy. I have done things no _boy _would. I am smarter, though perhaps not as wise, as many three times my age. I am not a _boy, _sir."

Fate raised a brow.

"Well, then, _young man – _is that more acceptable?"

Teatime grinned broadly.

"Oh, yes, much more acceptable. Thank you."

"Well, then, young man, what do you mean by that?"

"For me a short time would probably constitute as a week. For the disc, a short time would probably constitute as much, much longer. A hundred years – a thousand... it has seen many more days than I."

"Ah. Well, in that case, a long period of time for you, and a blink of an eye for the disc," Fate answered.

"How long?"

"A little over a year."

Teatime grinned in relief.

"I was expecting a much larger number. I can wait a year! A year is nothing."

"Why, may I ask, is this Susan so intriguing to you?"

"She's hard to put to words, sir. Very hard to put to words, but that's probably what I like about her."

"Was she your sister, perhaps?"

"No. I am very glad that she is not."

"Your wife, then?"

"No. I'd probably have died much sooner if that were true," the Assassin chirped cheerfully.

"Then what is she to you?"

"Susan's my frien-emy."

"I'm not sure if I've heard of that."

"Oh, you wouldn't have. It includes romantic interludes mixed with deep conversations and brief spouts of violence. Not to mention the attempted murder – for her – /inhumation – for me – of the other."

"Is that how you died?" Fate asked dryly.

"Oh, yes. In a most glorious fashion. Very poetic." Teatime's face grew thoughtful, "Shouldn't you know all this, though? How I died, who I am? It was my thought that we each would be received quite carefully."

"I'm afraid that I've mislead you, Mr. _Teh-ah-tim-eh_. I never lied, but I have mislead you."

Teatime glanced down and pursed his lips.

"I would thank you for getting my name right, but I do so dislike being mislead. It gets on my nerves." He glanced up, "Not many things can get on my nerves, sir."

"I am Fate."

It seemed the appropriate time to make that apparent.

"Ah. I see. Then this is not the afterlife, and..." he paused thoughtfully, then brightened happily, "...and I am not dead."

"No, you are, in fact, _halfdead_."

"Halfdead, sir?" the Assassin asked curiously.

"You are between Life and Death. I can choose to push you either way, if I so like, and it is I alone who is holding you here." That was a lie; the Lady, Astoria, and Blind Io were helping, but he didn't have to know that.

"And why are you doing that, sir?"

"For one reason and one alone: I think you can do something no other mortal could. You see, I wish one particular individual inhumed – "

"Ah, so this is a matter of business, sir. I can do inhumations well. I suppose you'll be paying me with a life, sir? But will you really be paying me? See, as far as I can tell, I'm going to die anyway, so why wait around a little longer when I could be skewered with a toasting fork or impaled with a poker at any second?"

Fate frowned; he hadn't quite expected that. Then again, Teatime was rather hard to predict.

"Yes, but wouldn't you like more time?"

"I don't really care about that," Teatime said with a large, boyish grin. "The afterlife will be a new adventure. And you said Susan would be coming soon, so I could drive her to her wits end with all sorts of silly things. I don't like looking back, sir. I move forwards, and I've passed the Life stage of being, so why take a step back?"

Fate blinked. This _young man _really was quite confusing.

"Is there anything I could do to make this worth while for you, then?"

"Yes, in fact," Teatime chimed, his eerie grin broadening. "Yes indeed, sir. If you were to make me immortal, I would _gladly _go about doing this for you."

"Wait, I thought the whole point was that you didn't want to go back and that – "

Teatime clucked patronizingly. It really wasn't wise to do that to Fate, but the god was too flustered and confused to notice and unleash his wrath.

"If I'm going to go forwards anyway, why bother with going back? Might as well get started on it, if you ask me. _But, _if I'm going to be staying for _good, _then I can work to bend the world to my will. It makes sense, see?"

"Fine," Fate ground out with irritation. "_Fine. _If you complete this contract, I'll make you immortal. And you'll get one year beforehand to use as you please."

"I believe we have an accord," Teatime said charmingly with his maniacally childish grin plastered to his face. "Who is it you wish inhumed?"

"Susan Sto-Helit."

His grin flickered and faltered, but only for a fraction of a second.

"Ah. Then I am to be what brings her to the afterlife in the year's time?"

"Yes."

"Ah. I see. This is... different than I expected," his voice was thoughtful as he glanced down darkly. But then he brightened and looked up cheerfully, "But a deal's a deal, as they say. Send me back, and you'll have death's granddaughter stone dead in one year's time."

"Are you sure?"

"You can count on _me, _sir. I am _very _competent, sir. Worry not!"

That was exceedingly hard to do (even for gods) when Jonathan Teatime was in the room.

*

Susan's head was light and airy. Her soul was all float-y and happy, and, best of all, she wasn't thinking about _Him_. Yes, _He _was long gone from her psyche. She was _drunk, _and _He _didn't invade her thoughts when she was drunk. Thank the gods for that!

Or at least that's what she'd thought. Susan groaned, glancing to her left and realizing she was hallucinating. There he was, that curly haired insane murderer who she'd come to adore enough to actually feel sad about killing, drinking at the bar. She hated it when she hallucinated him.

"Susan!" he said cheerfully.

Susan downed whatever it was she'd been drinking and called for another before turning to him grouchily.

"Get out of my head, will you!?" she called angrily. "I'm tired of dreaming about you and seeing you and thinking about you. I'm _tired _of it. So what if I killed you? So what if I _liked _you? So what if I _hated _you? No one should make such a drastic impact on me. _I'm my own!_"

He glanced down thoughtfully.

"I don't think I'm in your head, Susan," then he glanced up, grinning. "But it's simply lovely to know that you haven't forgotten me. And it's even nicer to know that you've _dreamed _about me. I missed you, too, Susan."

Susan rolled her eyes.

"Well, at least my imagination has you down pat, Teatime. You're just as annoying as usual."

"_Teh-ah-tim-eh,_" he replied automatically.

"Like hell am I ever going to say that."

"Oh, one of these days you will," the Assassin assured her, eyes glinting in a way that Susan just _knew _meant trouble. "One of these days."

"I doubt it."

"Are you going to step dance on the table again?"

"NO!"

"And I thought you weren't ever going to drink again."

"Old habits die hard," she grumbled. How'd he even _hear _that? He'd been downstairs –

Oh. Right. He's _dead. _This isn't him.

Susan felt a slight stab of sadness, followed by a spinning head, a bout of ecstasy, then a bit of confusion ended with a slam-dunk of 'oh, whatever!'.

"Ah. Perhaps then _I_ am an old habit, as I haven't died. I imagine it'd be rather hard to make that come about."

"It wasn't particularly so when I did it," Susan pointed out.

"But it didn't work, see?" he explained.

"Yes, it did. _You're _a hallucination."

"Your logical skills must be truly hindered, Susan, as, I assure you, I am quite real."

"Mmhmm. _Right._"

Teatime stood and leaned around her in a blur, his face approximately eight inches from hers and very curious. It all happened more quickly than Susan could blink.

"Right," he agreed as a huge, lopsided, and most definitely _twisted _grin spread across his face.

Susan raised a brow.

"Right."

Before she could blink (yet again) someone (being _Him_) grabbed the something (being her drink) in her hand and slammed it down on a flat surface (being the bar) and pressed a particular part of his body (being his lips) to hers.

_Damn, who knew hallucinations could feel _this good?was Susan's first thought.

_Golly, I _missed_you, Teatime,_ was Susan's second thought.

_Shouldn't I be feeling bad about this for some reason?_ was Susan's third thought.

And, _Oh, to blazes with it all. My head hurts,_ was Susan's final thought. She promptly turned her brain off afterwards.

Teatime pulled back half an inch and grinned.

"Will you say it _now?_"

"I don't think so," Susan mumbled.

"_Please?_ See, it's easy; _teh-ah-tim _– "

The duchess burst out laughing.

"You're silly," she observed plainly.

He blinked thoughtfully.

"Hmm. Not many people have said that." Teatime cocked his head thoughtfully. "On the other hand, not many people have known me long enough to say much at _all_."

"I'll believe _that,_" Susan grumbled, standing and walking towards the door to the bar. The Assassin followed her with a brisk pace.

"Where are you going?" he chirped curiously.

"Home."

"To the Gaiters'?"

"I'm a teacher now. No, to my apartment."

"Oh. I'm coming with you," he said cheerfully. It wasn't a question; it was a plain statement of fact.

"Suit yourself."

Susan shook her head, wondering why her stupid imagination wouldn't stop bugging her. Was she finally going crazy? After all those years of trying to ignore her Death-half, after losing her parents, after having Quoth, Death of Rats, and Death himself coming at her with so many different things to say, after going on so many pointless adventures to save the disc, after having to deal with Twyla and Gawain (those darlingly devilish children), after inadvertently (no, that was a lie; it was most definitely advertently, but oh well) killing the one man she might actually have a future with after figuring out that he was more than crazy (he was _psychopathic_), had she finally gone over the edge? It was a distinct possibility.

Of course, she could also be completely drunk. Susan liked this option a bit better, and decided to stick with it – for the time being, at least. Perhaps later she could use it to blackmail Death into leaving her alone (_You're driving me crazy, Granddad! Not two days ago I had an actual hallucination!_).

Susan pulled the door open, barged in, and slammed it behind her. There hadn't been a second of free time, but somehow Teatime had managed to slip in anyway.

_Well, at least my imagination has him down pretty good,_ she thought again.

"_Want a cup of_ _tea?_" she asked, rather impolitely.

The Assassin beamed, hands still in the pockets of his long trenchcoat.

"No, no thank you. I'm not much thirsty at the moment. It's so nice to see that you haven't changed a bit, Susan. Your face is still a little bit red like it always is when you're a bit tipsy. Not to mention that you're still just as grouchy."

"_Teatime – _" Susan growled.

"And you still... _growl_."

Susan nearly snarled, but feared he'd make another such comment.

"Want to see if I'm still poker handy? I can skewer you again, if you like."

"Susan, I've been gone a very long time. I've rather missed you. I can't quite remember much of the afterlife, but I doubt there was much to remember. But when I was there I remembered _you _quite clearly. When I got back, I knew I just _had _to see you once before I had to complete my work."

"You're _what_ _– ?_"

"Shh, Susan," he said softly, bringing a finger to his lips and tilting his head the slightest degree – very, very slowly. "Please be quiet."

"Why?"

He pursed his lips, looking slightly exasperated. In a flash, the wall slammed into her back and Teatime appeared directly in front of her, pressing her shoulders up against the hard surface. He'd done something like this before; he wasn't smiling this time, though. He, in fact, looked rather thoughtful.

"I am very much real, Susan," he said plainly, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Susan wasn't quite sure whether she should be frightened or not. There certainly was a dangerous glint in his eyes that she'd never seen before. And he was definitely in his aggressive-mood. Well, there really was only one way to deal with _that._ She would have to get aggressive too.

"You _feel _real," Susan replied. "Then again, so does the rhinoceros trampling on my head. But, let me try something."

She leaned forwards and kissed him. He seemed surprised for half a second. Only half a second, though.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "I'll say you're real enough for tonight."

Susan uncharacteristically shrieked as quite suddenly the floor vanished from underneath her feet and she found Teatime was holding her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?" she sputtered.

"I'm sweeping you off your feet, Susan," he replied, grinning mischievously.

How exactly she had ended up undressed in her bed with one similarly attired Assassin beside her sometime after 2:00am, she didn't know.

"That was fun," Teatime observed with a charmingly crooked grin.

Susan hit his head with a pillow. Hard (which may seem impossible, and it very well might be for the average person. But, and I think you know, Susan is _not _the average person).

*

When Susan woke up her head was pounding (of course, that was to be expected) and she was all alone. That was to be expected, too, of course. But somehow she was still surprised. Susan shook her head sadly (and then regretted it as her headache tripled).

"That was the craziest dream I've had in months," she whispered softly.

The schoolteacher took a hot bubble bath, then devoured approximately two boxes of chocolates and read three books, all in the hopes of driving Teatime from her mind. She hated how he invaded her thoughts all the time. She hadn't even known him for quite a year. But he had been someone she could truly be herself around, and she never felt awkward with the crazed Assassin – agitated, happy, infuriated, amused, confused, and aggravated yes, but never awkward.

And then she had to go and find out that not only was he an Assassin (though she already knew _that _bit), but that his 'inhumations' were some of the most brutal, inhuman things one could imagine. He'd nailed a dog to the ceiling. He'd cut off a man's head. He'd mutilated a maid and a butler. And Susan had personally seen these bodies. She shivered in disgust. It just wasn't _right_. And _that _was why she'd had to kill him. Well, that and the fact that he very well might have killed her grandfather and her charges. It was more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.

The thing was, he didn't see what was _wrong _with what he did. As far as he knew, he'd only done things right. And that was infuriating.

It was so wrong that this twisted man, out of all the others, would be the one who she cared for.

Susan slammed her head at her own heart's stupidity.

And, approximately two months later, Susan did exactly the same thing.

IT WAS JUST A DREAM! she called angrily.

As if screaming against it could somehow change things.


	2. Month By Month

**Author's Notes: Happy Easter, for all y'all who celebrate it! May you find many candy-filled eggs. Well, continuing with the insanity... and yes, I know this is rather fast paced, but I wanted to get through all this time so I just decided to devote a single chapter to it and get it over with. No Teatime, but Death shows up! And there's a heck of a lot of Susan. So! Again, this is really, really weird and out there. But that's half the fun! Oh, and if you have any suggestions for the _Baby_'s name, LET ME KNOW!  
**

**Disc-claimer: ****  
**

***

CHAPTER TWO

Month By Month

***

SECOND MONTH

It didn't help that her stomach was getting bigger. One of her younger (and more oblivious) students had asked why she was getting fat. Susan had quite promptly replied,

"It is impolite to discuss other peoples' weight."

...and attempted to brush off the fact that she was pregnant.

Susan hadn't told anyone. There really wasn't anyone to tell. Lobsang? Then she'd have to tell him who the father was. Death? Again, there'd be the whole 'Father' problem. Her students? The whole city of Ankh Morpork would know in approximately five minutes. That wouldn't do.

What _about _the father of her child-to-be? As far as she knew, he was dead. She didn't even know where he _was. _And even if she did, she doubted she'd tell him about the _Baby_. No, not because 'she wanted him to want to be with her because he loved her not because they had a child'; because she _didn't _want him to be with her, and, quite frankly, she was rather embarrassed.

Susan had, however, decided that it would appropriate to have some sort of glamoure cast on her to hide her growing stomach, if only so no one would know. She really didn't want to have to explain this.

Susan glared at the baby inside of her.

"Are you happy now? You've turned my life upside down. What am I supposed to _do _with you? You'll probably look just like him, too, won't you? You'll have his curly hair and – you know what, you'll probably be born with a glass eye, too. A black glass eye. And you'll be appearing all over the place and nailing dogs and..." Susan trailed off, still glaring at her stomach. "Why? Why did you have to be conceived? I was finally getting the hang of life. Things were _normal_. -Ish. And I rather _liked _Lobsang. What am I going to do with you, baby?"

Adoption, maybe? There were probably plenty of want-to-be-mothers out there who could take very good care of a newborn baby. The only problem being that this wouldn't be just any baby – this would be Death's great-grandchild, and (even worse) Teatime's baby. She couldn't curse some poor woman with such a knife-handy, **Voice**-capable little _something _– a _mostly _human.

"What am I going to _do _with you?" she repeated grouchily.

Suddenly, without a warning, she smelled icecream. Yes, she _smelled _icecream. Susan stood on alert, glancing around. She followed the smell throughout her apartment, quite surprised when it led her in circles. Strangely enough, the more she searched, the stronger the smell became, and slowly, she became more and more certain that if she didn't eat this phantom icecream she would keel over and _die. _Susan became more and more frantic as she dug through the icebox, checked the cupboards, shuffled through the drawers in her bedroom (she wasn't quite thinking clearly), and looked through practically every place there was in her apartment. But there was no icecream.

Susan felt like crying. She _needed _that sticky, gooey, sweet, creamy substance. She _needed _it. And then, the most ingenious, original idea hit her. Susan squealed with glee and leapt up, clapping happily. She'd go and _buy some!_

THIRD MONTH

The small of Susan's back hurt like heck. The glamoure she'd had cast on her abdomen hid her pregnancy, but not her weight. She'd had to practice walking in front of the mirror for an entire day before she was able to fix her posture and keep from waddling whenever she walked.

Susan grumbled as she entered her apartment. With a few muttered words and a flick of her wrist she dropped the glamoure, and relaxed the muscles she'd been using to stand up straight. She sighed in relief before plopping down on the couch. She had so little energy, and she'd snapped at two of her students most undeservingly. She really did feel bad about it now, but she didn't blame herself. No, she blamed the _Baby_. It was the source of all her misery and woe. It had no name, nothing. It was just the _Baby _– Susan's enemy.

She glared down at her nemesis, her sweaty hair flaring angrily as she narrowed her eyes at her stomach.

"You may think you've won," she growled, "but I'll beat you yet... _Baby_."

FOURTH MONTH

Susan was reading aloud a description of the battle of Athalon from one person's point of view in class. She planned to read another's, and then to take the children back in time to the battle and let them see for themselves how it _really _was, so they could get a feel of perspective. She had put a lot of thought into this lesson, spending much of her free time preparing it. Well, the bits of her free time that she wasn't using to hunt for spaghetti. The _Baby _wanted her to eat spaghetti, apparently.

"_What courage, they showed! Never backing down, never surrendering. They fought 'til their last breath, they stood strong and tall and not a man ran. Not one man turned away! And they chanted, and chanted, again and again, their leader's name_ – "

Something turned inside her.

Susan stopped.

She felt it; a tiny, little movement. A twist, a small kick, and a little flip. It was the strangest sensation, feeling something move _inside_ you.

Her throat caught, and suddenly she felt very hot. The _Baby _had moved. It'd moved!

Susan blinked, unable to explain the tiny tears that had welled up by her cheeks. She felt another kick, a little flick, a tumble, and a somersault. And then it was still, and silent. She pressed a hand to her stomach in surprise, her eyes wide. She had never felt something so real, or so pure. The baby had moved! Her baby had moved!

"Miss Susan?" a child peeped curiously. "Are you all right, Miss Susan?"

She blinked back the tears before coughing.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, Daisy," Susan croaked.

Her baby had moved!

_My baby moved! _Susan thought gleefully.

FIFTH MONTH

"And so the little fairy hop-itty-skipped down the cobblestone road – "

The _Baby_ kicked Susan. Hard. Susan glared down at her bulging stomach.

"What? Aren't babies supposed to _like _fairytales?" Susan had tried reading every genre she could possibly think of, and the Baby just didn't like any of them.

The _Baby_ kicked again in reply.

"_Fine, _then," Susan harrumphed. "Let's see how you like _war journals_."

SIXTH MONTH

Susan had never felt so darn high. If she weren't Susan, she'd be skipping merrily down the streets sighing and singing happily. But not only was her stomach weighing her down a couple pounds, she was also Susan, and the day you find Susan _skipping _will be the day giant rats have little people running through mazes.

The_ Baby_ was shifting like crazy. It was a restless thing, she knew, but at least she had finally discovered its literary tastes – the child liked murder mysteries, of all things (of course, considering its parentage, that shouldn't be surprising). The Baby especially loved the ones centered on Hermlock Sholmes, a great logician and detective. The more brutal the murder, and more descriptive the author, the more gleeful the tiny thing got inside her. Of course, it also had a thing for biographies and romance novels, which Susan realized they had in common (biographies; not romance novels). If the Baby didn't get its daily story, it literally went crazy and kicked her like a wild animal.

Fortunately, Susan had read extra long yesterday, so the _Baby_ was being merciful and giving Susan a bit of slack to get some fresh air outside of Ankh Morpork in the rolling hills. In fact, the former governess had a hunch that it actually liked the outdoors for unknown reasons.

Susan glanced around to make certain she was alone, and took off the glamoure. She'd realized that as much as her child-to-be liked murder mysteries, it hated the spell visibly contracting her stomach, so she took it off whenever she could. She could almost feel the Baby sigh in relief inside of her.

The schoolteacher pulled out her cherry-stuffed chocolates (she had – or perhaps more accurately, _the_ _Baby _had – been craving them over the past month and she always carried them around now) and started to snack happily on them in the nice warm sun as she sat on the soft green grass. The Baby started to get a little unsettled, and she read aloud to it until it fell asleep.

So yes, she was moody, and her back ached, and someday she'd have to figure out what she was going to do about the _Baby_, but for now, things were okay.

SEVENTH MONTH

"Granddad," she said simply, peering through the crack of her open door. Swiftly, she started muttering the words and twisting her wrist out of his sight to turn on the glamoure (the Baby kicked in protest, but she ignored it). She probably should have before she opened the damn door, but she'd thought it would be the delivery of the several new mysteries she'd ordered rather than her grandfather.

SUSAN, he replied simply. I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN A LONG WHILE. I THOUGHT I'D VISIT.

The schoolteacher's eyes narrowed.

"There're no monsters to fight?"

NO.

"No Hogfather's to save?"

NONE WHATSOEVER.

"No Auditors?"

THEY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MY VISIT, SUSAN. I WAS MERELY... CONCERNED.

"Mmhmm," she replied skeptically.

MAY I COME IN?

"Oh..." Susan stepped back, swinging the door open. "Alright."

Death stepped inside, noted the numerous empty chocolate boxes, icecream cartons, and mystery novels sprawled across the living room, and if he had had one, he would have raised a brow. Then he examined Susan. Her hair was a mess, she was sweaty, she looked a little grouchy, and she kept rubbing her back, yet at the same time she looked better than he'd ever seen her. Her skin was glowing, her eyes were flashing, and something about her just seemed... fuller.

"Seriously, though," Susan asked apprehensively, "there isn't anything you want me to do?"

She hoped there wasn't. In her present condition, she doubted she could make it out of Ankh Morpork, Binky or no.

SUSAN, I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU –

"You always say that. And then you wheedle in some sort of bait and a hint or two, and next thing I know I'm off on some wild goose chase trying to stop some near-disaster and avoiding near-death encounters. Er, I mean..." she sighed. "You know what I mean."

I DID NOT KNOW THAT YOU WERE SUCH AN AVID MYSTERY READER, Death observed conversationally, attempting the change the topic.

"I'm not – oh." She blinked. "Um, they've grown on me."

AH. I HAVE A LARGE SUPPLY IN MY DOMAIN. PERHAPS YOU COULD PICK THEM UP, OR I COULD BRING THEM OVER?

"That... that would be nice," Susan said. "I'd thought I'd gone through near all that were ever written."

The _Baby_ tossed excitedly inside her.

Death shook his head.

I REALLY DO NOT FEEL THAT WE ARE ALONE, SUSAN. IT IS THE ODDEST SENSATION. ALMOST LIKE THERE IS A SPECTER NEARBY.

"Yes," Susan said quickly. "Yes, I believe there is one in this apartment building somewhere."

PERHAPS I COULD ATTEMPT TO COLLECT IT FOR YOU?

NO! Susan called, then paused. "Um... I mean, it's a very pleasant specter."

THEN MAYBE ONE DAY YOU COULD INTRODUCE ME.

Susan gave her grandfather a strained smile.

"Maybe. One day. In the far off future." She paused, "Granddad?"

YES, SUSAN?

"Do you remember that one Hogswatch, when you stood in for the Hogfather?"

Susan could have sworn that the _Baby _giggled inside her at that silly thought; but that was just impossible.

YES, SUSAN.

"Do you remember that Assassin I killed?"

THE ONE YOU SKEWERED WITH A POKER?

Susan flinched. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

"Mmhmm," she managed.

YES.

"Anyhow, you told me that you would take care of his body. What exactly did you do with it?" the schoolteacher asked.

I DUMPED IT IN A BAR AFTER A PARTICULARLY NASTY BRAWL.

"You did?!" Susan asked, leaning over on one leg and crossing her arms. She was actually fairly impressed. "That was... very clever of you, Granddad."

Death beamed.

WHY THANK YOU, SUSAN. I RATHER THOUGHT SO MYSELF.

The schoolteacher raised a brow and smiled.

"You know, Granddad... but if you wanted to stop by again sometime... I probably wouldn't mind. I could get those mystery novels."

THAT WOULD... THAT WOULD BE VERY NICE, SUSAN. VERY NICE, INDEED.

A small smile cracked her face, and if Susan had glowed before she looked like an angel now (an angel of Death, perhaps, but an angel nevertheless).

"Then I'll see you again soon."

GOOD.

Death vanished in a flash, and strangely enough, the Baby tossed unhappily inside her.

"What, you?" Susan asked in surprise, turning off the glamoure and glaring at her stomach. "You _like _your great granddad, do you?"

The Baby twisted in agreement.

"Really? Well, I'll have to introduce you, one day."

The Baby wriggled excitedly.

Susan sighed. How was she going to work _this _out?

EIGHT MONTH

Susan was reading _Sleeping Beauty _(just to get back at the _Baby_ for getting all wild inside her when she was trying to talk with the school principle – it _hated _fairytales about pretty princesses) aloud, and had just reached the part where all the fairies were giving gifts to the little princess. It was _appalling_.

"Beauty? _Golden curls? _A laugh like bells? A pretty singing voice?" she practically shrieked. "What are these fairies thinking? How are golden curls going to help this poor, poor princess? Will they help her overcome obstacles, or talk her way out of trouble? Why not _wit? _Or _prudence? _Or immunity to stomach pains? Honestly, _rose red cheeks!?_" Susan shook her head in _disgust_ before pressing a palm to her stomach. "The only gift I wish upon you is common sense, little one. You don't even have to be smart; just able to see things as they are and put two and two together. That will make your mother proud. That and never, ever, _ever_ pronouncing your father's name correctly. Understood?"

The Baby kicked in frustration.

"Oh, _fine_. If you _insist_. We'll read another _mystery_."

The scary thing was that the _Baby _was actually getting good at predicting whodunnit. When it thought it had decided, every time Susan read the suspect's name the little thing would punch, kick, or toss inside her. And if that wasn't eerie enough, nine out of ten times it was right.

NINTH MONTH

UM...

"Yes?"

WELL...

"Mmhmm?"

ER...

"Just spit it out, Granddad," Susan sighed. She _really _hadn't wanted to do this. The _Baby _had _made _her. She just knew what Death was going to ask – but she wasn't exactly sure what she was going to answer.

WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE? he asked happily, all the sudden growing as light, jolly, and excited as a skeleton could. I'M GOING TO BE A GREAT-GRANDFATHER!

Susan blinked. She'd expected something more along the lines of 'Who's the father?', or 'What were you thinking?', or 'Who's the father?'. Not 'I'm going to be a great-grandfather!'.

"I didn't want to have to answer a hoard of questions," she said at last.

DON'T WORRY, SUSAN. I WON'T ASK A HOARD OF QUESTIONS. I'LL JUST STAND HERE AND BEAM FOR A WHILE. DO YOU THINK THE BABY WILL LIKE ME? he sounded more than a little worried.

Susan sighed, almost smiling.

"It already does. It does happy flips whenever you're around. It, in fact, made me tell you about it."

The _Baby _could be very persuasive.

ARE YOU SURE THEY AREN'T UPSET AND/OR FRIGHTENED FLIPS? Death asked nervously.

"No, those are much more aggressive," she explained.

OH, AND I RESENT YOU CALLING MY FIRST GREAT-GRANDCHILD 'IT'.

"_What?_" Susan sputtered.

IT'S A LIVING, BREATHING, _BEING_.

"There!" Death's granddaughter called triumphantly as she pointed an accusing finger his way. "You just said 'it'!"

ER... he trailed off, before nearly sighing as he continued. I WISH THERE WERE A NEUTRAL PRONOUN. IT WOULD MAKE THE DISC MUCH MORE CONVENIENT.

"There is," Susan explained dryly. " '_It_'."

AH.

Susan opened her mouth to make some kind of sharp remark, when she felt a strange pulling in her stomach. An odd twisting, and it wasn't her baby. It was something different. Like nausea, only worse. It was dark, and painful.

"Ooo," she called softly, stepping backwards and placing a hand on the nearest surface.

SUSAN?! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

"I... I don't – _ah!_ My gods, Granddad... Granddad, I think I'm having the baby!" she called in a panic.

This couldn't be happening. She couldn't become a mother. She wasn't ready. It would never work out. She'd be terrible. The Baby would look just like him. She'd kill the poor thing. The poor thing would kill her. This wasn't going to work!

MAKE IT STOP, GRANDDAD! she screeched in a panic as another wave of pain hit her. It was a twisting, sickening turmoil that knocked her back as she called out. "Granddad, I'm frightened!"

Frightened – she was _terrified. _But not of the pain alone; no, she was much more scared of what came _after._

WAIT HERE, SUSAN. I WILL BE BACK SOON, I PROMISE, Death answered, his voice shaky with worry.

Six hours later, Susan was shrieking and screaming and snapping. She was sweating and bleeding and crying and yelling, ripping blankets and looking far too close to chopping off someone's head for comfort.

STAY AWAY FROM ME! she screeched at the midwife Death had fetched.

The poor woman cringed, took in a deep breath, and then spoke softly.

"If you want me to keep my distance, I will, Miss Sto-Helit. But I just want to make sure that you and your baby are all right."

"I don't want a baby!" she screamed. "This hurts! I want it to – " STOP!

"Are you sure about that?"

"I – " she screamed, then calmed slightly. "I... oh... it's coming!"

"The baby?"

"THE BABY!"

After a lot more screaming, and another long hour, Susan was panting and crying. The midwife spoke softly.

"It's a girl."

"A girl?" Susan sobbed. Suddenly, she felt angry, and a terrible hunger filled her. "Give her to me!" she shrieked. "_Give me my child!"_

The midwife nodded, passing the tiny thing into Susan's arms.

Death's granddaughter stared down at the baby's face. She had huge off-white eyes. Bright, starburst eyes, larger – proportionally speaking – than any she'd ever seen, yet the pupils were like tiny pinholes (they were eerily familiar eyes). Her hair was a fuzzy mess, and it was crawling on her head. She had a wide, well defined mouth and rosy cheeks. She was all wrinkly and wet, but she wasn't crying. Her eyes were wide open, and she glanced around curiously until her gaze locked with Susan's. She looked eerily intelligent as she gazed up at her mother, and then, she _smiled_.

"You smiled," Susan choked. "You smiled at me."

Then she giggled.

Susan laughed. Susan laughed as tears poured down her cheeks. She laughed as her face grew even wetter than it was and the baby giggled with her. A tiny, plump little hand cupped Susan's cheek as the child make gleeful grin.

"Aaahhahahddgf..." the baby said.

Susan glanced up, a happy smile glowing on her face.

"Did you hear that?" she called to the midwife. "She talked! She's not a minute old, and she talked! She smiled! She's beautiful!"

The midwife smiled.

"Would you let me check her vitals?"

Susan almost growled, pulling the Baby close to her chest protectively.

"Stay back!" she warned.

"Alright, then," the midwife replied, raising her hands in peace. "I'll go tell your grandfather."

Susan nodded, then looked back at her baby.

"You're a pretty girl, yes you are. You're a very, very, pretty girl. You're _my _girl," she cooed, her voice involuntarily rising in pitch. "Yes you are. Yes you are!"

The Baby giggled again.

There was a knock.

MAY I SEE HER? Death asked.

Susan clutched the child to her chest, before reluctantly responding.

"Yes... I suppose you may," she said at last.

Death entered, and came up to the little baby. He glanced at her, and his blue eyelights lit up.

MAY I HOLD HER?

NO! Susan called adamantly. "I mean, give me some time. I've just had her. Let me... let me hold her for a little while longer."

"What are you going to call her, Miss Sto-Helit?" the midwife asked.

Susan blinked.

"The Baby?" she said weakly.

She'd never really thought about names. She had always just been... the _Baby._

The midwife blinked back.

"Um, you want that on her birth certificate?"

"No!" Susan called in a panic before she could curse her child with the name 'Baby'. "No, I don't want that," she added more softly. "I'll need a few days." Susan gazed down at her baby's face. The tiny girl was already drifting off to sleep. "Ana? May? Mary? Lily? Lyla? Leia? Bethany? Carla? Ysabell?"

She glanced up at her grandfather helplessly. He shrugged, then managed to look hopeful.

CAN I HOLD HER NOW? JUST FOR A TINY BIT? I WON'T DROP HER. I'LL BE VERY CAREFUL. IT'S NOT LIKE I'M ALBERT.

Susan sighed.

"Oh, fine. But just for a tiny bit. Then I want her back!" the schoolteacher warned.

Death nodded emphatically before taking the small, wrinkly form into his arms.

AH... he said softly, gazing down at her sleeping face. AH, SHE LOOKS LIKE HER MOTHER, SUSAN. HER HAIR IS SO LIKE YOURS. SHE IS SO... Death sniffed. LOOK AT HOW SMALL HER LITTLE FINGERS ARE. LOOK AT HOW PRETTY HER LITTLE NOSE IS. LOOK AT HOW PINK HER LITTLE CHEEKS ARE. He sniffed again. I'M A GREAT-GRANDDAD!

"I want her back now," Susan said matter-of-factly. She'd been growing more and more jealous as each second had passed and couldn't bear it any longer. She knew if that baby wasn't in her arms in the next few instants she'd probably say something very unkind to her kindly grandfather that he really didn't deserve.

He sniffed again.

YES, YES... HERE SHE IS, SUSAN. LOOK AT HER LITTLE TOES!

"She has such tiny toes, doesn't she?" Susan cooed, playing with them idly.

Death managed to beam.

CAN I READ YOU BOTH A MURDER MYSTERY? YOU SAID SHE LIKED THEM.

Susan nodded emphatically, crying down at her little girl.

"Yes, I think she'd like that. You would, _wouldn't you?_" she cooed, tickling her child's tiny tummy.


	3. MY Child?

**Author's Notes:**** Practically a oneshot, and not as long as my other chapters, but kind of silly. And Teatime's back, so it's gotta be fun!**

**Disc-Claimer:** I don't own the Discworld. Maybe one day one of my creations will be out there for others to read, but for now, just my fanfiction is. So I'll give credit where credit's due: the disc belongs to Terry Pratchett.**  
**

***

Chapter Three

MY Child?

(since there was such doubt)

***

Death gave Susan a cradle. Susan spent an hour prying out all the skeleton and bone decorations. Just because her poor daughter was destined to be an eighth-or-something-similar Death didn't mean she had to grow up with such morbid decoration on her cradle. Then again, Susan didn't really want flowers and fairies, either. Instead, she settled with a red velvet themed bassinet. It fit with the murder mysteries the Baby so loved.

And yes, she was still just _the_ _Baby_. There was no name for Susan's little girl yet, but she didn't really need one. She had more than enough character on her own. And believe you me, she had _character_.

Thankfully, the Baby's birth coincided with the beginning of summer, so the newly made mother didn't have to worry about work as she took care of her first child. She read aloud to her, and played with her toes, and showed her around the apartment, and took her outside when she was sure no one would notice. Susan talked to the Baby constantly, sang to her, and cooed to her. The Baby was, for the most part, a very observant, very cute, little blob that slept most of the time and wet her diapers. But she was _very _cute.

Susan hadn't known it was possible to love something so much. She'd hated that Baby (well, maybe 'hate' was a strong word, but she had had anything but amicable feelings for her at first). But now, when she looked at her child, all she could thing was "Wow. I am the luckiest woman ever to grace the disc. I have been blessed with the most beautiful thing in creation.".

Susan could only draw the conclusion that the mischievous little _baby_ had put some kind of spell on her. But she couldn't really change that, could she? _It'd worked._

Precisely one week and three days after the Baby's birth Susan walked into her room to collect a couple books, leaving her child in the red velvet bassinet. She had rather intended to read aloud for a while to get her to sleep so she could do some reading of her own, and she was in the middle of choosing a new book to begin when she heard her baby call out, sobbing. Death's granddaughter felt her heart stop as she zipped back into the living room.

There was the one thing that she never, ever, ever in a million years wanted to see.

There was the one thing she'd sell her soul for.

There was Jonathan Teatime, holding her baby and bobbing up and down to try to stop her from crying.

Three sets of alarm bells went off inside Susan's head:

The third being:_ I'm so happy to see you! I can't believe it's you! You're alive, you're well, and you're here! Thank the gods!_

The second being: _You monster! Get away, now! Leave! Evil, twisted, sick thing!_

The first and most predominant being: _GET THE BLAZES AWAY FROM MY BABY RIGHT NOW!_

Susan had never been so terrified, so happy, and so angry all at once. It was such an overwhelming loud of emotions (conflicting ones, at that) that she couldn't even move.

"Get the blazes away from my baby right now," she croaked.

"Shh, shh," Teatime shushed, bobbing the Baby up and down again, his face skewed up slightly. He glanced up at Susan. "Shh, can't you see that she's upset?" The Baby stopped and cooed slightly.

Susan was somehow petrified as she glared at him, steaming. The Assassin began to delicately place the Baby back in the cradle, and spoke levelly as he did so.

"Tell me who her father is, Susan," he commanded softly, before turning towards Death's granddaughter and slowly approaching her. Suddenly, his knife was glinting between his fingers, his gaze sliding over it as he caressed the smooth, metallic surface lovingly. "Tell me so I can slit him open from throat to hip, introduce him to his still-beating heart, rip out his ribs one by one, pull out his intestines in one long thread, lacerate his throat and lungs – "

"You're the father," Susan replied plainly before she had to hear more morbid description in such personably light tones.

Teatime stopped mid-uber-creepily-moving-forwards-ing. He stopped dead, as if some sort of wave had collided with him. He glanced up, his face looking truly surprised.

"My baby?" he said at last, his voice distant and far-off. He took a step back, towards the cradle. "Mine?" Teatime dashed to the bassinet, leaning on his arms as he stared down at her small, wrinkly face. "_My _child?" He tilted his head slowly. "She's so... _tiny_." The Assassin looked up again, a twisted grin spreading across his boyish face. "Look at how pretty she is!" Suddenly, Teatime was right beside Susan's right ear. How he'd gotten there, she didn't know. "What's her name?" He was by her other ear. "Does she have one?" Then his face was four inches from hers, directly in front. "Can I help you pick one?"

"I don't know, no, no!" Susan answered, giving the correct reply to each question. "Most certainly not!" She took an angry step back. "The last time I saw you you nearly killed two children! And me! And my grandfather!"

"Ah, ah!" Teatime corrected patronizingly, shaking his head and raising a finger. "The last time you saw me we were making our baby." He skipped the space between them again, grinning eerily. "Let's make another!"

Susan instinctively tried to slap him, and when the Assassin caught her wrist he examined her speculatively.

"You're not quite thinking, Susan. I must have touched a very touchy matter."

"Get out," Death's granddaughter snarled. "You leave me and my daughter alone."

"_Our _daughter," he corrected. "You said so yourself." Teatime smiled charmingly. "I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long. I've been terribly busy. You look in excellent health. Being a mother suits you."

He released her wrist and zipped across the room, leaning low over the little baby cooing softly.

"Hi, there, little Teatime," he said. Then he glanced behind him worriedly. "She _is _a Teatime, isn't she?"

"No!" Susan huffed, stalking up to him. "She'll be a proud Sto-Helit! Now _get away!_"

Teatime looked slightly hurt.

"I have a right to look at my own _child._"

"You didn't carry her for nine months!" Death's granddaughter snarled.

"Exactly my point," Teatime countered. "You've gotten her all this time. I only just learned that she existed. It's _my _turn, Susan. You've got to play _fair, _Susan."

"Get away from her. _Now_."

The darn Assassin had the nerve to lean into the bassinet and smile at the Baby inside, completely ignoring her.

"You're a _Teh-ah-tim-eh, _aren't you? You're going to be a Teatime."

Susan, desperate to defend her name and her child, did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed _Tea_time by his perfect golden curls (now that she thought about it, they'd probably go good on the Sleeping Beauty all those fairies had practically cursed) and dragged him back. He actually looked surprised, and Susan smirked as she liberated her child.

Unfortunately, it seemed that her child didn't want to be liberated.

"Aa-aah-aah-aaaaaah!" the Baby hyperventilated.

Teatime twisted around so Susan's wrist snapped, ignoring the fact that his head was screaming bloody murder as his hair ripped. He caught Susan's arm and flung her away nonchalantly before scooping up his daughter tenderly. She stopped crying as her father nuzzled her warmly and her mother slammed into the ground roughly, groaning softly in pain.

"See? She wants her _Daddy_. You're going to be a Daddy's girl, aren't you?" Teatime cooed.

Susan pulled herself to her feet, barely holding in the rage bubbling up inside her.

"If you harm a hair on her head – !" she growled.

"Oh, Susan, her hair's just like _yours_. See, it's twisting and turning and wriggling. There's so little of it, but it's doing it." He looked up at Susan and grinned, "She's a bit of us both, she is. Look, she has _my _eyes. All she needs is a glass one, too. Maybe if I took one of them out..."

Susan nearly screamed.

DON'T YOU BLOODY THINK ABOUT IT! she screamed(1).

Teatime frowned.

"But a glass one is _very _useful, and I could do it _very_ _quickly_. I could probably even find some spell to staunch the pain and bleeding. It's not particularly hard to secure a wizard." He grinned devilishly, "For me at least."

"And this is why I want you gone!" Susan shrieked. "You're... you're... you're _TWISTED!_"

"Shattered, broken, crazy, _freak,_" the Assassin replied dismissively as he looked down at his daughter. "I've heard it all before, Susan. You're not really one to talk. After all, you aren't a _girl_, you're a – "

Susan caught her breath.

"Don't say it again, Teatime. Please."

"Why don't you start by calling me by my name now that we have a daughter? _Correctly?_" he asked idly, before turning his attention to the Baby and playing with her tiny fingers. "How about I show you my knife, little Susanette? It's very useful. We could _share _it, and I could show you how to _use _it."

"She'll poke her eye out!" Susan protested.

"Ah, so it would be a multi-purposed idea! I could get her a special glass one after all!" Teatime called happily. He kissed the Baby's forehead, gently placed her in the bassinet, tucked her in tenderly, and turned back to Susan. "But if you're so against it, Susan, I won't. Parents should stand united."

"Parents should _what?_"

Thinking of her and Teatime united in anything was... difficult. And thinking them of as shared parents was even harder.

"Stand united. We should agree on what we want for our children. Or rather, as in this case, _child_," he explained as he approached Susan once more. "For instance, we should agree on a name. What about Stella? It means 'star' in Latin. She's a bright little star, don't you think? Or maybe 'Sol'; it means sun. Or – "

"I think I can figure it out on my own, thank you very much," Susan growled. "Now GET OUT."

Teatime clucked patronizingly.

"We should at least decide on her _last _name."

"Generally speaking, a child takes on its mother's last name."

"Generally speaking, a child's mother's last name is the same as their father's. Because, _generally speaking, _their father and mother are _married_." Teatime paused, looking thoughtful. "Do we have to get married now?"

"On your bloody grave!"

"How would my grave get bloody?" Teatime wondered thoughtfully. "Even if I died there and bled a lot when they dug the hole to bury my coffin the blood would have gotten turned into the soil. Of course, it could be someone _else's _blood, but I don't see what that has to do with – "

"How are you even alive, Teatime?" Susan tried, if only to keep him from going off on one of his odd musings.

"Fate wanted someone inhumed and thought only I could do it."

"Who?"

"You."

"_What?_"

"He said he'd make me immortal if I did."

"So... so you're going to kill me?"

"Can't we save this conversation for later, Susan?" the Assassin sighed exasperatedly. "I've just found out I'm a father. We need to work this out." He paused, and his face lit up as he came up with an idea, "Why not her last name be Stome? Pronounced stoe-may; 'sto' from **Sto**-Helit, and 'me' from Teati**me**? Stella Stome... I rather like it."

"JUST GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF HERE!" Susan shrieked, wringing her hands angrily.

The Baby wailed, waving her hands angrily. It was silly how similar Mother and Daughter looked.

In flash, the tiny girl was in Teatime's arms, and he was cooing softly to her.

"Shh, Stella Stome, shh..." he glanced up at Susan accusingly. "You made her _cry!_"

(1)Alright, so there was no 'nearly' about it.


	4. Death Tries

**Author's Notes: Death! Susan! Teatime! Gods! What more do you want?**

***

Chapter Four

Death Tries

(alright, so you should probably run away screaming)

***

ALBERT?

"Yes, master?" the pixie asked curiously, though he didn't look up from the sliced apples he was frying in pig fat.

IT'S SO EXCITING ABOUT THE BABY. SUSAN LET ME READ TO HER EARLIER. I'VE SEEN HER ALMOST EVERY DAY. SHE REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF YSABELL AND SUSAN WHEN THEY WERE HER AGE.

"I'd bet, master," Albert sighed, flipping a few singeing pieces. "But isn't there somethin' else worth some conversation? You've been talking 'bout 'er all day. "

SORRY, Death said sheepishly. IT'S SO EXCITING, THOUGH! I FIND IT HARD TO THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE.

"What _I _want to know," Albert said, dumping massive amounts of salt and cumin on top of the frying apples. Oh, a tinge of cinnamon, too. "...is who's this baby's daddy?"

Death stopped dead(1). He looked back and forth from Albert to empty space(2), looking very confused.

I HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT, he said simply.

"Well, why don't you ask 'er?" Albert suggested.

I PROMISED I WOULDN'T ASK A HOARD OF QUESTIONS. SHE WAITED SO LONG TO TELL ME BECAUSE SHE WAS AFRAID I WOULD DO SO.

"Yes, but she's _told _you now, see?" he pointed out. "She can't rightly take it back."

BUT WHAT IF SHE GETS PREGNANT AGAIN, AND DOESN'T TELL ME BECAUSE I ASKED A HOARD OF QUESTIONS THIS TIME?

"The second time isn't near as shocking as the first," Albert said dismissively with a wave of his hand.

I REALLY DON'T WANT TO STICK MY NOSE WHERE IT DOESN'T BELONG. METAPHORICALLY SPEAKING, OF COURSE.

"It seems like a pretty reasonable question to me, sir," the pixie pointed out, adding a few grapes and sprouts to the burning apples for good measure. There was a sickening sizzle as he poured massive amounts olive oil over the mix. "She is your granddaughter, after all. You 'ave a right to know who she's been fooling around with."

Death sighed as he sat down on the counter stool.

NAVIGATING THESE HUMAN ISSUES IS MUCH HARDER THAN ONE WOULD EXPECT. IT'S A WONDER THEY MAKE IT AS LONG AS THEY DO WITHOUT LEAPING OFF A CLIFF TO ESCAPE THE PRESSURE.

"You 'aven't, sir," Albert pointed out.

IT WOULDN'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE. I'M IMMORTAL, BUT IF YOU THINK I HAVEN'T CONSIDERED IT, YOU DON'T KNOW ME NEAR AS WELL AS I THOUGHT YOU DID.

"Why do you think she hasn't come up with a name?" the pixie added, pressing the earlier conversation and ignoring the latter. "She's waiting for 'er beau to come along and 'elp(3)."

AND I'VE BEEN OBLIVIOUS TO ALL THIS... Death shook his head darkly. I'M AM VERY, VERY DISAPPOINTED IN MYSELF.

"Who do you think the father might be, master?"

WELL, THERE WAS THAT LOBSANG FELLOW SUSAN RATHER LIKED. IS THERE REALLY ANYONE ELSE THAT IT _COULD _BE?

"Not that I know, master, but Susan is pretty good at keeping certain things secret. Too bad there ain't some kinda book you could look into, and see exactly what she was doin' nine months ago."

Death brightened.

PERHAPS I COULD LOOK IN HER BIOGRAPHY! he called excitedly.

"There y'are, master."

Death dimmed.

BUT WOULDN'T THAT BE INVADING HER PRIVACY? DON'T YOU THINK THAT WOULD UPSET HER? I DON'T WANT TO MAKE SUSAN –

Albert sighed as he placed his radioactive(4) concoction on a plate and dug around for a fork.

"Master, I can only say so much. You're going to have to decide for yourself what you're gonna do. Me, on the other hand, I'm off to eat me food."

Approximately half an hour later Albert was in the bathroom, feeling terribly sick, and cursing the fact that none of the plumbing actually _worked._

(1)No pun intended.

(2)There was no one else to look at, and this dramatic moment of realization _demanded _some confused glancing around.

(3)Well, in reality, Susan simply had absolutely no idea what to name her baby (besides the burning knowledge that it _wasn't _Stella). It had nothing to do with a lack of Teatime, but Albert didn't know that.

(4)Maybe not _quite _radioactive, but it might as well have been.

*

"_I _made her cry?!" Death's granddaughter shrieked. "You're the one talking about gouging her _eye _out!"

"Yes, but my voice has been very _level_ throughout this_, _Susan," he explained patiently. "I haven't been screaming loud enough to make poor Stella a deaf Death's great-granddaughter."

"I don't want to call her Stella!"

"Well, until you find a better one _I _will, because calling her 'the baby' is demeaning, and I'll have no such thing associated with my daughter. I'm surprised that _you_ would."

Susan nearly growled. Instead, she took in a deep breath.

"What do you want, Teatime?" she managed. "Why are you here? To _kill me?"_

"I would answer that question," the Assassin replied, dipping his head, "however, whatever my original intentions may have been, they have changed now due to current revelations. We should talk of something else, as it seems we both have a similar problem."

"And _what _is that?" Susan grumbled.

"It is summer currently, but eventually you're going to have to go back to teaching. Who will watch Stella then?"

"Her name isn't Stella," Death's granddaughter grumbled under her breath. Teatime chose to ignore her comment.

"And I, similarly, have my Assassin's work. So, I fear, I couldn't take her myself either. And, I think it's safe to assume, no babysitter could handle an eighth-Death Teatime."

"_Sto-Helit!_"

"So," the Teatime continued, "I have deduced that we're going to have to _work together_ to raise this child."

"And when did you come up with this ridiculous notion? Over the last _five minutes?_"

"Yes, I believe so."

Susan grumbled incomprehensibly, crossing her arms and shifting her weight. Teatime smiled happily.

"I love the way you grumble, Susan."

"Not enough not to kill me."

"I promise that I won't kill you for another while at _least,_ so please don't worry about that. I just thought you should know about the service I'm supposed to perform, so you didn't find out later through some back channel and get _oh _so upset like they always do in romance novels."

Susan blinked.

"You've read _romance novels?_"

"When Fate brought me back to life I thought I'd look into things that might help me understand exactly what happened between us."

"And what have you determined?"

"That we are in no way romantically involved. And I don't want to be. It sounds so terribly dull. We're something _very _different. I couldn't find a single romance even similar to ours. Or whatever you want to call us. I think I'm still sticking with 'frien-emies'."

"I think you've ended the 'frien' section with our last..." Susan trailed off, "…er, our encounter before last."

"So we're emies?"

"_Enemies_, Teatime."

"I don't want to believe that."

"Believe what you like. I'll just impale you with a poker again."

Teatime sighed, glancing downwards. He took Susan's wrist gently.

"Susan, I promise you, I will take very good care of our baby. I promise you that there is no one else in the world I feel the same way about as you, and I promise that that will never, ever change. And I know you won't, but I'm going to ask you just this once to trust me."

"You just said you were going to try to kill me!" Susan called in disbelief. She attempted to free her arm. It didn't quite work.

Teatime looked up, his black and white eyes meeting hers intensely. But he didn't look angry.

"Trust me."

Then he was across the room by the bassinet again, he leaned downed and kissed the baby's forehead.

"I'll come back and visit, Stella Stome. I promise. And one of these days we'll share my knife."

Then he was by the door, grinning broadly Susan's way.

"I never break a promise!" he called happily, before slipping out and away.

Susan sighed and picked up her little baby. She kissed her and smelled her odd, sweet sent as she pulled her close protectively.

"I'm sorry I cursed you with such an erratic father, baby. I'm really very sorry."

_Well, I'm in trouble, _she thought with an apprehensive sigh. _Now I have an Assassin – no, worse, _Jonathan Teatime _–_ _after me and my child. What am I supposed to _do?

She paced back and forth, gently rubbing her baby's back.

_I might _have _to tell Death, _Susan realized. _But what would I say? 'Remember that crazy Assassin I killed on Hogswatch? Well, we were sort of friends until I found out he brutally murdered people. Oh, and then he came to visit when I was drunk. And it turns out Fate resurrected him to kill me. _He's _the father of your great-grandchild.'_

Susan sighed again. She was in big trouble.

*

Teatime knew that this would be difficult. Technically, what he was attempting was impossible. But he really didn't have a choice.

At first dying hadn't seemed so terrible. It would be an adventure. But now he had a _daughter_. And be he twisted, Teatime found that nothing besides his relationship with Susan (whatever that _was_) was as special as that little girl with huge eyes. He wanted to see what she'd look like when she grew up. He wanted to show her how to move silently, how to defy physics. He really did, and though he couldn't explain it, he accepted it as a fact. If that's how he felt, that's how he felt. Now he just had to make reality bend to his will so he could do as he pleased.

However, Teatime also wanted Susan's help. He liked the look on her face when she'd looked at her baby. He'd liked how she'd defended her child, even if she'd been in no real danger. And all in all, he had really liked Susan, but he liked Mother-Susan even more. He didn't want to lose her just after they'd met.

And he couldn't rightly _die _now, could he? No, he had to stay very much alive so he could watch his baby grow up and drive Susan crazy. But he didn't want to kill Susan, either. He had to find a way to make it work.

Teatime, after a long while of thought and deliberation, drew only one conclusion:

He had to cheat Fate.

*

"See? He's telling her to _trust _him!" Astoria squealed.

"Yes," Fate agreed. "Yes, he is, but I'll bet he'll slit her throat very, very soon."

"He's had over nine months to do so," the Lady mentioned.

"Yes, yes, but I gave him a year to start with," the empty-eyed god countered dismissively.

"I still don't know why you did that," Blind Io grumbled. "It was boring waiting so long."

"I rather enjoyed watching him work his way back into the Assassins' Guild as if nothing had happened," the Lady said. "I found it interesting."

"I didn't '_enjoy_' watching his assassinations," Astoria shivered. "They were _anything _but romantic."

"Yes, anything indeed," Fate replied dryly. "But you have to admit, they were very creative."

"Very elegant, too," the Lady put in.

"_'Elegant'_ indeed," Blind Io agreed, "but I'm beginning to think that perhaps bringing this particular 'young man' man back to the disc was a bad idea."

The other gods' heads snapped his direction.

"Why?" they chorused.

His brow furrowed.

"Hmm. Good point(5)."

(5)Note here how much the gods care about human life (being _not at all_).

*

Death hadn't meant to go into the library. He really hadn't. He hadn't even been looking where he was going. He was just wandering the many halls of his domain absently, thinking about Susan and his currently unnamed great-granddaughter (Jenna? Alice? Diana?), when he found himself among the biographies of every living thing ever to grace(6) the disc. To make matters worse, he was even directly next to the 'S' first name section of the 'S' last name section. Susan's biography was only five feet forwards on the bottom shelf.

_IT COULDN'T HURT JUST TO _HOLD _IT, COULD IT? _he thought as he took a couple steps forwards, bent down and lifted up Susan's book. It was a heavy, sensibly gothic book that gave off the aura that it was screaming '_bugger off!_'. Death held the covers in his skeletal hands, staring at the carefully written name gazing back at him.

_Susan Sto-Helit_.

Death shook his head.

_NO. SUSAN CAN TELL ME WHEN SHE'S READY._

He replaced the book and took exactly two steps away.

A little over half a minute later he was in the parlor flipping through pages idly.

_SOMETIMES, _Death thought to justify his actions, _SUSAN DOESN'T KNOW WHEN TO ASK FOR HELP. AND WHAT IF SHE NEEDS IT NOW? I CAN'T RIGHTLY ALLOW MY GRANDDAUGHTER TO WITHHOLD INFORMATION WHEN DOING SO MIGHT HARM HER IN SOME WAY._

A certain passage caught his eye several years back in his granddaughter's life, and he paused there to read.

"_I'd very much like to be a part of your everyday life, Susan," he said, dipping his head for emphasis._

"_I'm not sure if I have a __choice __in that matter. But," Susan hesitated, "but if I did, I don't think I would send you packing." The smug grin he gave her was just too much. "...I'd just impale you with a poker," she added. He smiled at her remark, looking a little dangerous._

"_Hold still."_

"_What – ?"_

_It wasn't like Susan had moved. It wasn't like he had, either. No, the __wall __jerked forwards, slamming into her back, and he magically appeared directly in front her, their noses almost touching._

"_Hi, Susan."_

_Teatime leaned forwards and kissed her before he could think better of it._

Death blinked, then reread the name. But there was no mistaking it. He reread the passage, making sure that he hadn't missed something. Was Susan trying to manipulate Teatime somehow? But she hadn't _known _him back then, had she? She'd only met him in the Toothfairy's castle, hadn't she? So what was his granddaughter doing kissing a bloody Assassin?

More importantly:

_WHAT IS A BLOODY ASSASSIN DOING KISSING MY GRANDDAUGHTER!?!?!?!?!?_

Death doesn't often get angry.

Then again, sometimes he _does_.

Quickly, he flipped through the pages to about nine months ago.

The burning anger welling up inside him turned to unmatched, cold, _rage_.

Well, at least he tried(7).

(6) Or curse.

(7)He always _does_. It just never (ever, ever, _ever_) works out exactly as he planned.


	5. LessThanFriendly Debate

**Author's Notes:**** Susan tries to think of baby names! Death confronts Susan! Teatime tries to be a normal family! Fate gets involved! Okay, _now _you can scream.**

***

CHAPTER FIVE

Less-Than-Friendly Debate

(to put it in friendly terms)

***

If there was one thing Teatime's 'visit' had made Susan realize, it was that her baby needed a name(1), so she had stayed up half the night thinking up a list of random ideas. She was thoroughly appalled the next morning when she read it, but oh well. At least it was something to work with.

"Alright, let's have a look, then," Susan said, shaking out the paper as she sat beside her baby's bassinet. The parchment made a satisfactory _crack _as it snapped into place. She cleared her throat; "We've got Holly, Cassandra, Megan...?" Susan trailed off, glancing at her daughter's face in hope of some reaction. Her nose was wrinkled, her brow furrowed, and her huge off-white eyes squinted near shut. Her mother immediately turned her eyes back to the list; the expression was far too familiar. "So you don't like those. How about Jenna?"

"_Ahhhhhhhh..._" the baby lulled shrilly. It was more of a 'nah' than a scream or cry.

"Abigail?"

"Eeee-uhhhhhhhhhhhhhrr?" it sounded like 'what on earth were you thinking, mommy? Do I _look _like an Abigail?'.

"Quite frankly, I don't know either," Susan mumbled. "I was delirious."

There was a knock on the door. The former governess sighed in exasperation (though in reality she was relieved) and stepped up to the door, pulling it open.

"Oh, hello granddad," she smiled. "Come on in."

Death didn't say anything as he entered. A thunderbolt struck the ground where had been standing. It was storming something terrible outside, but he wasn't dripping.

SUSAN, he said darkly.

Her brow furrowed.

"Are you all right, Granddad?" she asked.

AN ASSASSIN. A CRAZY ASSASSIN WITH ONE EYE. TELL ME WHERE HE IS, SUSAN. TELL ME WHERE HE IS SO I CAN PULL OUT HIS HAIR ONE STRAND AT A TIME, GOUGE OUT HIS OTHER EYE, PUSH HIM OFF SOME SORT OF REALLY HIGH CLIFF AND –

"How do you know about Teatime?!" Susan called in shock.

UM... Death glanced at his toes guiltily.

"You didn't read my biography, did you?!"

SUSAN, YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND –

"Why didn't you bloody well _ask!?_" she yelled.

WOULD YOU HAVE ANSWERED? Death asked quietly.

"Yes! Eventually. After a lot of deliberation. But that gives you no right to go shifting through my personal life!"

I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE THAT –

"How dare you, Graddad? How _dare _you? There's a line that we _don't cross_. There's a line that you don't go passed!" AND READING WHAT IS PRACTICALLY YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER'S DIARY IS PART OF IT!

WHAT ABOUT NAILING A DOG TO A CEILING? he pointed out angrily.

I'M NOT WITH THE BLOODY ASSASSIN, AM I? Susan shrieked back.

YOU _WERE_.

I WAS DRUNK, GRANDDAD! _DRUNK! _I THOUGHT I WAS DREAMING AND I KICKED HIM OUT LAST TIME HE WAS HERE! Death's granddaughter protested.

ARE YOU GOING TO KICK _ME _OUT?

MAYBE I WILL!

WELL WHY DON'T YOU? he asked indignantly. Or as indignantly as he could.

I WILL! I AM!

FINE! he called in a huff, crossing his arms in agitation.

FINE! she called in a huff, folding her arms angrily.

FINE! he bit back.

FINE! Susan snapped.

FINE!

WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? she yelled blatantly.

I DON'T KNOW!

THEN _GET OUT!_

_FINE!_

And just like that, Death snapped away. Susan plopped down on the chair by her baby's bassinet and sulked for a few seconds, before picking up the list.

"_What? _I never wrote 'Ordell' down," Susan called in surprise, reading the last name written. The writing was slightly spidery, rather neat, and yet it somehow managed to look listless and lazy.

"It means 'little knife'," Teatime's voice explained from behind her.

Susan rolled her eyes.

"I'm not naming my baby _knife_."

"'_Little _knife', and you wouldn't be naming her that. It'd be _Ordell_."

"I don't like it!"

Teatime sighed.

"For what it's worth, Susan, _I'd _never go shifting through your biography."

"But apparently you'd go listening in on my private conversations," she observed.

"It would be most exceedingly difficult _not _to listen, Susan, with so much **Voice **involved. I'm surprised your landlord allows you to live here, you yell so much," he mused thoughtfully. "Of course, he or she may very well be too frightened to protest or complain."

Susan stood angrily from the cozy arm chair and whirled around to get a good look at him. She pursed her lips and clenched her fists.

"What do you want, Teatime?" she growled.

"Oh, I've just come to visit." His face skewed up and his nose wrinkled as he remembered a name on the list, "I don't like Claire. Not for _my _baby, Susan."

"Well? What do _you _want her name to be?"

"Stella?"

"I don't – "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know," Teatime sighed. "You're so very hard to please."

"You're almost impossible not to. It's... it's... it's..." she trailed off, glanced around, then finally found the right word, "it's _infuriating!_"

"I've always heard that those easy-to-please were pleasant."

"Oh, you're _pleasant, _alright," Susan agreed sardonically with a long, slow nod, "but then you go and knife someone in the gut before they've properly introduced themselves!"

Teatime clucked patronizingly.

"No, no, no, Susan. I almost _always _give them a chance to properly introduce themselves." Suddenly, he was behind her and by her ear again. "Hello, my name's Teatime. What's yours?"

Susan pursed her lips angrily, stepped forwards and whirled around.

"I wish you would stop dancing around me like this! You're making me dizzy."

"But it's so _easy _thatit's near _imposs_ible _not _to."

"_Teatime,_" she growled warningly.

"Oh, _fine_. If you _insist._" The Assassin sighed, shook his head, then walked over to the red velvet cradle. "Hello, there. Your mommy and I must name you shortly, Susanette, mustn't we? I can't continue this namelessness. It is truly getting on my nerves." He cocked his head, and the Baby mimicked him. "Ah, very good job. Be just like your daddy."

"God forbid!" Susan called.

"Be just like your mommy, too. She's so cute, another of her would just make the disc so much better."

Susan felt a growl rising somewhere in her throat, but simply clenched her fists and slammed her eyes shut in frustration.

"Is there anything I can do to get _rid _of you?"

"For good?" Teatime asked, turning from the cradle. The Baby cried out in protest, not liking the loss of attention, but gave up when she found that she couldn't get them to turn back to her at the moment. That was alright. She could give them hell later (REVENGE!!!!!!!!).

"Yes," Death's granddaughter answered plainly.

"Nothing."

"How about for _now?_"

"Why don't we have dinner together?" the Assassin suggested brightly. "You, the Baby, and I? Like a real family?"

"Dream all you want, Teatime, but the three of us will never be a 'real family'."

"We can _pretend, _can't we? And maybe one of these days I'll change your mind. I can be very persistent. But I'll go_ for now _if we have dinner together."

Susan sighed.

"What's your fancy?" she asked. He was like a leach; once he latched on, there was no getting him off – unless you had a lot of salt handy – until he had his fill. Unfortunately, 'salt' was in short supply. And even if it weren't, it seemed like he liked the taste of the salt almost as much as the blood.

"Hmm..." the Assassin said thoughtfully, turning back to the Baby and tickling her chin.

"Oooooooogugugugooooooof..." the Baby said with a sweet giggle.

Susan shook her head. She didn't know _how _that tiny thing managed to look so innocent, yet be so completely devious, and still be so darn loveable. She got that trait from her father, she assumed.

"Soup, maybe?" he suggested idly, stroking his child's fuzzy cheek.

"That would take forever to make," Susan replied matter-of-factly. "You'd never get out."

"I could help."

"The cooking, Teatime. Not the prep."

"That's the _point, _Susan. I don't _want _to leave. I _like _seeing my baby." He bent down and tapped her nose, then stood to his full height and turned in a black blur. "And I _like _seeing _you, _Susan."

"Well, _I_ don't like seeing _you_," she replied harshly. "So please just _go!_"

"_I_ don't _believe _you," he replied, stepping closer. "And now I'm going to make you say my name."

Susan blinked.

"_What? _You can't switch topics on me like that, Teatime, we were talking about – "

Suddenly he had her up against a wall again, and _this _time he most definitely _was _grinning. Susan rolled her eyes.

"See, Baby!?" she called. "_This _is why you have to be much more careful in your choice of mate than your mum was!" she glanced back at Teatime dryly. "And _this _is why we're not together. This_ and_ the brutal murders."

"Say it with me, Susan," he replied with a terrifyingly charming grin, obviously on a one track mind. "Teeeeeh...aaaaaah..."

"Oh, be quiet, you!" she called in exasperation.

"_Please, _Susan."

"I've told you once, and I'll tell you again – "

"_Pretty _please, Susan," he asked softly, tilting his head innocently.

"Teatime, just _stop _it – "

"Pretty, pretty _pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase_..."

Susan smacked her head in desperation. This wasn't going anywhere good.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty – "

TEH-AH-TIM-EH! Susan shrieked. She couldn't take it anymore. Another second of his incessantly cute whining and she'd go insane(2).

Teatime's face brightened and literally glowed as he smiled at her charmingly.

"I simply _adore _you, Susan," he said at last, before leaning forwards and kissing her tenderly. Susan was too surprised to react as he grabbed her hand, dragged across the room, scooped up the cooing baby, marched into the kitchen, and somehow managed to get out a large pot without dropping the baby or releasing her hand. All in five seconds flat. It was impossible(3), but he did it.

Teatime turned to Death's granddaughter, a sweet, happy grin plastered to his cherubic face.

"Let's make dinner, Susan darling!" he called brightly.

Susan blinked.

(1)And it was _not _going to be Stella Stome.

(2)Assuming, of course, that she hadn't already.

(3)It has been rumored, however, that Teatime ate impossible for breakfast.

*

Teatime was feeling very pleased with himself, hands stuffed in the pockets of his long black coat as he pranced happily through the darkening streets of Ankh Morpork. He was practically glowing on his own, and managed to look friendly enough – even with his horrifying eyes – to get a few pleasant nods and smiles from random passers-by. This was novel and new for him, and he found it slightly disturbing.

But no matter. Dinner had been more than a little confusing for poor, prudent Susan, but he had a hunch that she'd enjoyed it even if she _had_ tried to thwap in on the head with a poker three times. And his daughter most _definitely _had had fun. She'd burst out laughing whenever her mother tried to brain him(4), and it was such a _sweet _laugh. Teatime smiled at the memory of his pretty little daughter.

Suddenly, he felt someone's eyes on him.

"Is that you, sir?" he chirped curiously without stopping or turning.

"Yes, it is, in fact," Fate replied, falling into step beside him. "I want to know why you haven't killed her yet."

"Well, I've been wondering, sir, why exactly do you need me? Fate kills so many people everyday," he pointed out.

"Death's granddaughter isn't a 'people'," Fate replied dryly.

Teatime nodded, his smile broadening slightly.

"Oh, yes. _That's _for sure."

"But _why _I need you isn't up for debate. You're supposed to _do _it."

Teatime's brow furrowed.

"But my allotted year isn't up yet, sir," he said, his voice dripping with innocent(5) confusion.

"Your deadline's been shifted," Fate replied.

"A deal's a _deal, _sir. Please don't go and change it on me. That would be ever so... _impolite,_" he mentioned softly.

"True, but I'm afraid the rules are a little different when it comes to life and death. I could snap my fingers right now and send you back to the afterlife."

Teatime frowned.

"That most certainly wouldn't do." His face brightened as he turned his head Fate's way, "So you're holding me on a leash, sir?"

Fate blinked. He shouldn't look that happy saying those words. The tone of his voice just didn't... _fit_.

"Yes."

"Ah. I see. Well, have no worries. Susan will die most shortly."

"You seemed quite friendly with her earlier."

"All part of the plan, sir," Teatime explained idly, tossing up his knife and catching it effortlessly. It glinted as the moonlight hit it. "But _please _don't go shifting things around on me again, sir. It makes things oh so... _tedious_."

Fate raised a brow.

"I'll do as I please," he replied. "Just make sure your work is done before the month is up."

With that, the god vanished into the crowd. Teatime shook his head with a sigh. So the gods were – or at least Fate was – watching him. It was a good thing he hadn't said anything aloud that could give away his intentions. Whatever they were. So how could he communicate with Susan without Fate knowing, if Fate was watching him when he visited her?

This would be some serious food for thought.

(4)This seriously worried Susan. Would her baby grow up thinking the perfect romantic relationship involved attempting to kill your partner? Now that just _couldn't _be healthy.

(5)Teatime is one of the few people on the disc able to master both perfect innocence and complete creepiness, and he is the _only _person able to emanate both _at the same time_.

*

"I _told _you so," Fate said smugly to Astoria. "He said, and I _quote_, 'All part of the plan, sir'."

"Just because he _intends _to do it doesn't mean that he will," the goddess of love pouted.

"And just because he says something doesn't mean that he isn't lying," the Lady pointed out.

"_What?_" Blind Io asked. His eyes attempted to blink all at once in confusion, but it ended up being a cascade much similar to roundworld dominoes.

"He could be lying," she said much more simply, a twinge of exasperation tainting her voice.

"Ah," the king of gods caught on.

"_Could be lying? _ I seriously doubt it," Fate replied.

"I don't see why he wouldn't if he didn't intend to kill Susan. If he backed out you'd just snap your fingers and he'd be dead again. I doubt that's something he wants," the Lady countered logically.

Fate grumbled.

_Well, I'll have to do something about _this, he thought dryly.

**A/N: And now for the author's plea... REVIEW! And I won't update until you do, mwahahaha...**


	6. Much Ado About Baby

**Author's Notes: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up. I'm not quite sure if I like where this story's going, and I was hesitant to post this. But I couldn't come up with something better, so here's the next bit. Read, enjoy, and review, please, because that makes me happy.**

**Oh, and if you're into Teatime (which you probably are or you wouldn't be reading this), I've made a community that has everything my sister and I have written on him, as well as a few favorites that others have. If you know of good fanfictions involving that wonderfully psychotic Assassin, do let me know, and feel free to stop by and check it out (you can get to it from my profile)!  
**

***

CHAPTER SIX

Much Ado About Baby

(being kidnapping, rescuing, and – even worse! – arguing about names)

***

The Baby didn't understand half as much as she let on. She couldn't quite make out words, and she had a hard time telling them apart from one another. But she understood her parents' tones of voice very well, and she had gathered that they didn't like one another very much. Or rather, that for some unknown reason, her mother was very angry with her father.

That made the Baby sad and very confused, too. Her daddy was simply beautiful, and he had that wonderful smile. He knew exactly how to tickle her, and he had very interesting eyes. They were wonderful, because they were so different from normal ones. She hoped that one day she'd have eyes just like him. And her daddy was silly. He had a cheerful, happy voice that made her feel like everything was going to be okay(1). So she didn't understand why her mommy was so upset with him.

The Baby loved her mommy very much, too, of course. She loved how she read to her all the time, she loved how she would list off silly names for her, she loved how she grumbled and stalked back and forth. She loved her pretty hair, and hoped that her hair would be just like her mommy's when she grew up. She didn't like how her mother screamed all the time, and she vowed to be careful about that as she aged, but her dear, sweet(2) mommy must have a very good reason for it.

The Baby sighed. Life was so confusing, and from what she could tell she'd only _just started_. How was she going to navigate this big bad world? She felt like crying. Yes, she should do that. She should wake up her mommy and get her to hold her and comfort her, maybe even read for a while, and then maybe everything would be alright.

The Baby opened her mouth to scream, when a middle aged man leaned over her cradle. She opened her eyes wide and cocked her head curiously at the man above her. She wondered if she should be frightened, but then noticed his black and empty eyes. One of her father's eyes was black and empty, and if this man looked anything like her father he must be safe. So the Baby didn't scream. She just looked up curiously as the man put a finger to his lips.

"...?" the Baby asked curiously.

Fate shook his head.

"Let's grow you up a notch, shall we? I don't think you're going to come very well like _this_. I've never much liked babies."

The Baby furrowed her brow in confusion. She wished she could decipher this man's tone like she could her parents, or simply know what he meant like she could with her great-grandfather. Suddenly, she felt herself shifting, her hair growing, her legs bunching up as the cradle and everything else shrunk around her. The Baby sat up, looking around as the bassinet crushed and crashed under her new weight, and suddenly she _knew_.

"Who are you, and why did you make the world shrink? I want my mommy! I want my daddy!" the not-quite-Baby said indignantly, crossing her arms as she sat in the rubble of her bassinet. "And give Daddy his eye back!"

So this man _had _to be bad. He'd stolen her daddy's _eye_ so he could look as safe and protecting as her father did so she wouldn't scream. The Baby glared at him terribly.

"Have they picked out a name for you yet?" the god asked, kneeling in front of her and meeting her white eyes.

"I'm _not _Abigail!" she harrumphed.

"Most definitely. How would you like to go see your daddy, little one?"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Mommy says I'm to stay away from Daddy unless he visits."

"I can go if you like," Fate replied in a low voice. "But your daddy _really _wants to see you."

"He sent you to come and get me?" the Baby asked apprehensively. "Is that why he gave you his eye?"

"Yes, exactly why."

"And you'll take me back right away? Mommy was going to read me a story in the morning. I wanted to see if I was right about the murderer. You see, it had to be Sir Sculley because he's the only one who would know how to cut open the four chambers of a human heart – " the Baby began.

Fate pursed his lips as the description grew more morbid, and he found himself wondering exactly what _kind _of murder mysteries this girl read (or rather, _had read to her_).

"I'll take you back the moment you want to come."

The Baby's hair shifted around her head thoughtfully. It looked as if it were floating in water before mostly settling down around her shoulders in a mess of curls. It did move slightly, though – as if in a gentle breeze.

Her white eyes bore intensely into Fate's black ones, and she grew thoughtful. At last, she grinned a sweet, maniacally friendly smile.

"Alright, please _do _take me to see my daddy." She nodded before leaning forwards dramatically, "I've missed him _so much._"

Fate returned her smile with a small smirk and lifted the little girl (who in appearance seemed just shy of four years old)into his arms before he snapped away.

(1)Often what he was saying was something along the lines of 'Don't you think it would be _fun _to cut open cadavers, count their ribs, and see how many out of ten have less than the average of the others?', but his _tone _was almost always very bright and friendly.

(2)Only her daughter could ever attach the word 'sweet' to Susan Sto-Helit.

*

"See, it makes perfect sense. If you let me into Mr. Artson's apartment, then you can go home and see this daughter you're telling me about. But if you don't, you might never see _anything _again. So why don't you tell me; why on the disc _wouldn't _you let me in, Henry?" Teatime argued logically to the trembling man before him, cocking his head curiously.

"What if someone in there gets hurt because I – "

"Oh, why would _you _worry about _that? _It's not as if _you'll _hurt anyone. In fact, all you would be doing would be moving a single object and twisting it. How can that mean _anything?_ I have a daughter, too, so I know how much you want to see yours. The sooner you do this the sooner you can go... _home_."

Henry glanced apprehensively at the knife at his throat.

"Daddy?" a sweet voice asked curiously.

Both men's heads snapped around to see a little girl approximately four years old. She had huge, off-white eyes with some of the tiniest, pinhole pupils. Her lips were wide and thin, but very well defined. She had curly hair that waved around her head like a halo; it was all white save for a black streak. She was deathly pale, but her face was round and her cheeks plump. Her lips were almost white. She wore a black dress with a black sash around her waist, which made her look even paler than she was. She had her arms crossed and looked very much like Susan until she grinned charmingly. It was an _eerie _grin, and Teatime's eyes widened in pride and excitement as he recognized it.

"You're a little bigger than when I last saw you, Susanette," the Assassin said, his eyes glued to his daughter as he absently strangled the man behind him with one hand.

"What are you doing, Daddy?" the Baby asked. "And Mommy doesn't like it when you call me that."

"What shall I call you then, since your mother doesn't want me to call you Stella?" he asked curiously as Henry clawed at his hand in desperation. "And I'm working."

The Baby sighed, shaking her head sadly. Susan would have been terribly unnerved had she been there, the gesture was so similar to one you might find the crazed Assassin himself doing.

"I suppose you can call me that." She smiled brightly, "I actually rather like it. But when did the man give you your eye back?"

"What man?" Teatime asked as Henry slumped, unconscious. The Assassin kneeled before his daughter and cocked his head.

"He made me bigger, Daddy. He said you sent him to get me."

"That's funny," the Assassin said thoughtfully. "I never did that."

The Baby stuck out her lower lip as her eyes watered. "You don't want me, Daddy?" she asked shrilly.

"Shh..." Teatime said softly, stroking her cheek and watching her hair shift about his fingers like static. "I _always _want to see _you, _Susanette. If you ever, ever, _ever _need me just come and find me. I _promise _I'll want you there."

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

"_Really._" The Baby smiled, but this time it was a small one, cracking her crying face. It didn't show any teeth, and Teatime couldn't help but see Susan in her. "You look just like your mother, Susanette. That's her name, you know. _Susan_."

"I like that name. Could I have it, too?"

Teatime shook his head.

"There'll only ever be _one _Susan. Let's keep it that way." He cocked his head, a slow smirk drawing across his face as he gazed into his daughter's huge eyes. "You are such a pretty girl, Susanette. Such a _pretty _girl. But why are you so big?"

"The man who has eyes like that one – " she pointed at Teatime's black glass eye, her finger barely a quarter of an inch away, yet somehow managing not to touch it. The Assassin didn't even blink. " – made the world shrink. He must have shrunk you, too."

Teatime froze, unmoving. He didn't flinch, or blink. He just stared at the side of his daughter's face thoughtfully. At last, he nodded.

"I didn't send for you. He was lying."

"Should I be frightened?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

Teatime placed a finger over her lips.

"_No,_" he said softly, shaking his head ever so slowly. "If your mother were here she'd tell you one thing: don't get scared – get _angry_. And I won't let anything happen to you, Susanette. _Nothing, _so you'll never have a reason to be afraid."

"Exactly," came Fate's voice. "She won't have anything to fear if things go exactly as they're supposed to – id est, Susan _dies_."

"Mommy?" the Baby, cried, her head trying to snap over to Fate's direction.

Teatime grabbed his daughter's chin before she could, keeping their eyes locked. He shook his head.

"_No,_ Susanette. Don't look away from me. Look at me." He continued to stare at his daughter, and noticed her lower lip tremble. When he spoke again it was barely a whisper. "Don't be scared." Then he spoke to Fate, keeping their eyes locked. "And what makes you think anything would happen differently?" the Assassin asked cheerfully. "I've told you it would be done. You've already checked up on me once."

"He wants you to hurt Mommy, Daddy?" the Baby squeaked.

Teatime kept staring at her, but ignored her words.

"I'm not saying you wouldn't, but this one stays with me until the job is done."

"You're breaking our deal. You're changing the rules as we play. You shouldn't do that," Teatime replied simply.

Fate shrugged.

"Life isn't fair."

Teatime shook his head and stood in a blur, meeting the middle-aged (in appearance, at least; in reality he was _way _passed 'middle-aged') god's eyes.

"This is where you don't go, Fate," he said cheerfully, flashing a friendly smile. "This is too far. Please do leave my daughter out of this."

"The moment her mother is _out of this, _so to speak, she will be as well."

Fate nodded before he vanished.

Teatime whirled around. The Baby was gone too.

The Assassin shook his head darkly and flicked out his knife. He kneeled before Henry, smiling charmingly as the man slowly came back into awareness.

"About that door..." his friendly voice chimed.

When the police found Cathor Artson (a wizard plotting to take over the world and failing miserably), his own brother couldn't recognize the body.

*

Susan awoke feeling fantastic. The Baby hadn't made a single peep all night long, and she'd gotten the first good night's sleep she'd had in a _long _time. Her back felt fantastic and her hair was in an excellent mood. It didn't give her any trouble at all. She almost smiled as she pulled on a dress and stepped outside her room into the living area.

Then she saw the broken bassinet.

Susan's eyes widened in shock as she ran up to the cradle and kneeled before it. She shook her head in denial.

"No," she said. "_No,_" she growled.

Susan stood to her feet, feeling a terrible mixture of anger, fear, and loss welling up inside her. She wished terribly that her child had a name, so she could call it as she tore apart her house, looking everywhere for a clue, a _sign_ – _anything_. But there was nothing. No baby. No clue. _N__othing_. "What has happened?" she gasped. One word came into her mind: "_Teatime_," she growled.

Susan picked up her poker, pulled on her boots, and was just about to go down to the Assassin's Guild and demand that they tell her Mr. _Teh-ah-tim-eh_'s location when there was a knock on her door.

Susan swung it open and nearly screamed with rage when she saw the crazed Assassin on the other side.

"What have you done with my child?" she demanded, her voice dripping with fury as she stepped past the door frame, glaring terribly.

Teatime wasn't smiling. He looked as serious as she had ever seen him, and he shook his head.

"Fate has her," he replied.

"_Fate?_ Why would Fate want – "

"To make sure I'd kill you."

"But why would he need to? It's not like you'd hesitate – " Susan cut herself of at the look Teatime was giving her. It was somewhere between angry and exasperated, a dark glare she'd never seen cross his face.

"Susan, you don't actually think that I'd go and kill you without a second thought anymore, do you?" he asked.

"I – "

"Why aren't you dead, then?" In a flash her head jerked back as her hair pulled taught, and she felt a cold blade on her throat. How he'd gotten behind her so quickly, she didn't know. But that was normal for him. "Why don't I kill you _now?_"

"You've tried before," she managed hoarsely.

Teatime released Susan, stepping back in frustration.

"I would have gotten you back!"

The schoolteacher whirled around angrily.

"When you hacked me in two?" she called.

"I was planning to go after Death," Teatime replied. "I thought I could come for you later."

"Do you expect me to believe that you really thought _anyone _could come back from the dead under _any _circumstances beyond zombiehood – "

"I did," he answered coldly. "And I can do anything."

"What about when we were dangling off the balcony? You tried to stab me then and there!" she countered.

"We would have ended up in the Unseen University. They would have healed us both." His eyes were flashing, his face solemn. He looked older than he ever had before(3). "And if you don't believe me, ask yourself why I would be willing to fall with you; you were the only thing holding me up."

Susan clenched her fists angrily, glaring coldly at him. But she had no come back, no witty remark, no sharp comment to bite back spitefully. So she simply glared at him.

"Susan, we can argue all we like. We could fight for eternity, perhaps. I wouldn't be surprised. I know you hate me, but we have more important things to deal with at the moment – id est, _rescuing our child_."

Death's granddaughter chocked back whatever she was about to say and nodded before whistling shrilly.

"Where are we going?" Teatime asked as Binky galloped down from the bright sky above.

Susan patted the horses nose and pulled herself up onto his back.

"I'm getting my baby's biography," she explained. "It should say where she is and if she's all right."

Teatime leapt up behind her, ever graceful. He wrapped his arms around her and grasped the reins, sending the horse up into the air.

"Let's go," he whispered.

(3)Perhaps a more accurate description would be that he looked the _least childlike _that she'd ever seen him.

*

The Lady turned to Fate with a fire in her eyes.

"You cheated," she said darkly.

"It's part of the game, Lady," he replied. "You've cheated in others before, and so have I."

The Lady whirled around to Blind Io angrily.

"Get him to play fair, Io," she growled. "Get him to play by the rules."

The king of gods shrugged.

"It makes things more interesting this way, though," he pointed out.

"But this way we're not figuring out whether or not Teatime is capable of love," Astoria countered. "We're just seeing if he's going to kill Susan or let... er, 'the Baby' die."

The gods sighed and exchanged an exasperated glance.

"They really need to name that kid," they chorused.

*

Death was sulking. There really was no better word for it. He was sulking, and he felt absolutely terrible. He'd completely botched everything up. He'd upset Susan, invaded her privacy, made her angry, and he wouldn't get to see his great-granddaughter again for a long time.

And the father of his great-granddaughter was _Jonathan Teatime!_

As if things weren't bad enough on their own.

He sighed sadly.

Then there was a knock, and the door struck open like a clash of thunder as Susan barged in, pulling back the hood of her black cloak as she did so. Death went over to greet her as quickly as he could.

SUSAN? he said. I'M SO VERY SORRY – then he saw Teatime. OH. _YOU._

Teatime smiled charmingly.

"And a most excellent day to you."

SUSAN, WHY ARE YOU HERE? Death asked his granddaughter.

"She's gone."

NOT – ?

"Yes," Susan replied gravely. "She's gone. Fate's taken her. We're here to find her biography and see – "

I'M AFRAID, SUSAN, THAT SHE DOESN'T HAVE ONE.

Susan blinked.

"_What?_"

YOUR DAUGHTER DOESN'T HAVE A BIOGRAPHY.

"Why not?" her voice was getting a little panicked.

WELL... WHAT WOULD IT BE UNDER? SHE DOESN'T HAVE A NAME, SO HER BIOGRAPHY HASN'T BEEN MADE YET.

"You've got to be kidding me!" she called. "This can't be happening! What can I do?"

"It seems, Susan," Teatime answered softly, "that we'll have to name her. Do you have some favorites picked out?"

"Um..." she shook her head. "Um, Ysabell, after my mother?"

"Wouldn't that get confusing?" the Assassin asked curiously.

"My mum's _dead, _Teatime," Susan replied dryly. "I thought you knew that."

"I do. But whenever you talk about her – "

"I'll refer to her as 'mum', or 'my mother'."

"I'm none too fond of it, Susan."

Susan harrumphed in exasperation, rolling her eyes for good measure.

"What about Elizabeth?" she suggested.

Teatime wrinkled his nose.

"I don't mind Elizabeth, but then someone is sure to call her 'Liz'. I despise 'Liz'."

"What's wrong with 'Liz'?" Susan asked defensively.

"I don't like it."

"We can change the name later! It doesn't have to be permanent. Just long enough for there to be a biography so we can _find _her."

Teatime shook his head.

"I am _not _naming my daughter something with an intention of changing it. Names are very important."

"Well, then, Mr. Names-Are-Important, why don't _you _give a suggestion?"

"I still like Stella...?" he suggested hopefully. Susan glared at him, hands on her hips. "...but I know that you don't like that. What about 'Mallory' or 'Bridgette'?"

"Mallory means 'ill-fated luck'. I don't believe in tempting Fate, especially when Fate has made such an obvious enemy of us," Susan replied dryly. "And Bridgette sounds too happy. This girl's a little monster and we should name her accordingly."

"A little _monster?_" he clicked his tongue patronizingly. "From what I've seen of her she is simply the... _sweetest _thing to grace the disc, Susan. I'm so _disappointed _to find that you'd talk about our daughter like that."

Death flinched at being reminded that this man had had such relations with his granddaughter. It wasn't _right._

"Why not Carmen?" she suggested with an exasperated sigh.

"Carmen..." Teatime mused thoughtfully, tasting it on his tongue. "It's a pretty name, but it sounds so very _old, _say for someone in their twenties. I couldn't call my _baby _Carmen."

I HAVE A SUGGESTION, Death said quietly.

Susan and Teatime's heads snapped over to him in surprise. They'd almost forgotten that he was there.

"Go on, then," Susan said.

Death nodded.

I HAVE PUT SOME THOUGHT INTO THIS, AND FROM WHAT I KNOW OF YOU, AND FROM WHAT I KNOW OF HER, I THOUGHT WE COULD CALL HER...

He leaned forwards and whispered the name quietly. Teatime's eyes widened and an enlightened, slightly eerie smile spread across his face.

"Yes, that will do nicely. That will do _wonderfully_."

Susan nodded.

"It's suits her. It's spunky, smart, sensible, sharp... I like it," Death's granddaughter agreed. "Thanks, Granddad." She turned to Teatime abruptly; "So let's go look under the Sto-Helit section and – "

"_Sto-Helit?_" he said before he shook his head adamantly, his curls shifting slightly. He clucked patronizingly; "I think not, Susan. She's a _Teatime_."

Death sighed before starting to make himself comfortable, shaking his head sadly. He had a hunch that this was going to go on for a while.

"Never in a million years will my daughter be a _Tea_time!" the schoolteacher protested in frustration.

Teatime opened his mouth to correct her, but was (barely) able to shut himself up as he pursed his lips.

"Fine, let's make a compromise, Susan," he managed. "We'll call her Sto-Helit for now, but if we ever get married we're switching her name to Teatime. Deal?"

"You and I married?" Susan called incredulously. "On your – "

"Yes, yes, I know; my bloody grave. So you've got nothing to worry about. Do we have a deal?"

Susan raised a brow.

"You do understand what you're getting into?"

"Yes, I do."

"Fine, then," she answered, reaching out her hand and shaking Teatime's. "Let's go find her biography."

He grinned, which made Susan a little worried because he looked _very _triumphant. She shook it off, though, and the trio made their way as quickly as they could to the library.


	7. The Baby No More

**Author's Notes:**** I didn't go over this chapter as thoroughly as I normally do, and it came out a little rushed. Sorry for that, but I hope you enjoy it anyway - because this is the end of _Cheating Fate_. Thanks for sticking with it so long, and please drop a review! I hope you like the Baby's name. I wanted it to be indisputably perfect, but as everyone has different tastes things that's kind of hard to do. I hope you all think it fits!**

**Oh, and I'm probably going to put up a fanfiction filled with bunches of oneshots about the main characters of this story trying really, really hard to be a family (and of course it ends up a little garbled, but deep down they're happy!). It's not exactly a story, as there isn't really a plot-line; it's just a bunch of scenes (WAY longer than drabbles). I've written a few out, so I'm definitely going to do it, but I'm not sure what it's going to be called yet. Anyhow, thanks again for reading, and I hope this doesn't disappoint!**

***

CHAPTER SEVEN

'The Baby' No More

(where the name is named)

***

The Baby sat grouchily, resting her chin on her fist and her elbow on her knees. The gods were arguing most profusely, and she just wanted to go _home_. It might have been fun watching them bicker, but they were talking about things she couldn't quite understand. She heard mention of 'Teatime', and sometimes a few 'Susan's, but beyond that she couldn't make out much of the conversation. She stood as angrily as she could on her wobbly legs (it was taking her a while to get the hang of them).

"Excuse me," the Baby said, "but I demand that you bring me back home this very instant."

The gods glanced at her with blank faces, as if they'd forgotten that she was there. She glared up at them, shifting her weight over to her other leg.

"Have you forgotten that I'm _here? _Well, I might be a little girl, but I am a Sto-Helit and a Teatime," she said proudly, sticking up her chin. "And you will _not_ ignore me!"

She _hated_ being ignored.

The gods exchanged a glance for half a second, very silent. Finally, Astoria kneeled down before her.

"Your parents have decided on a name for you, child," the goddess of love said.

The Baby cocked her head curiously.

"Truly? A _name? _Something I could actually call myself?" She grinned, "Please _do _tell me. I'd very much like to know it. You wouldn't _believe_ how annoying it is being a nothing like this…" the Baby shook her head sadly.

Astoria glanced up at the others.

"So, did any of you hear Death when he whispered it?"

There was an awkward silence.

"_What?!_" the Baby called. "You can't tease me like this! That's not _fair._" Her eyes flashed darkly, "You should play _fair_."

The Lady chuckled, which greatly agitated Susan's daughter.

"You would do well to speak kindly to the gods, child."

"I would do well to speak kindly to all, madam," she replied in a polite voice as her glaring eyes brightened and shifted to the other goddess. "Being polite is quite important. But _you _all shouldn't tease poor little girls. Isn't that _cruel?_"

"I _saw _it," Blind Io put in, "on the cover of her biography. I sent one of my eyes down there."

The Baby clapped in excitement.

"Oh, _truly!? _ So it will all work out after all!" she said with a happy, charming smile.

"Your name," Blind Io said, ever so slowly, "is Charlotte."

The Baby's – _Charlotte's_ face brightened as her eyes widened in glee. She grinned an eerie, huge smile to show off her newfound excitement.

"Oh, _Charlotte_. That's _me. _I am _Charlotte_. Charlotte means _free, _doesn't it? I _like _Charlotte. Mommy and Daddy are so smart, aren't they?" she chimed. "They picked a name that fits me so perfectly!"

"Charlotte…" Astoria mused, rolling the name around in her mouth. "Hmm, it certainly is spunky."

"A very no-nonsense name as well," Fate put in. The Lady shot him a nasty glare.

"I'd _agree_," she grumbled spitefully to him.

"Hello!" the Baby chirped sweetly with an eerie grin. "My name's Charlotte Sto-Helit. What's _yours?_"

The gods exchanged a worried glance. Only one thought ran through their heads:

_Is this a _good _sign…?_ they wondered apprehensively.

*

"Why Lancre?" Susan wondered as the wind beat at her face.

IT IS EXCEEDINGLY ANNOYINGLY FAR AWAY. EVERYONE KNOWS THE GODS LOVE TO TORMENT EVERYONE ELSE, Death explained, shifting Binky's reins.

"I'm not exactly certain that 'torment' is the best verb for the present occasion," Teatime put in.

Death shifted and grumbled angrily under his breath. The Assassin sighed.

"Oh, dear. Neither of you like me very much, do you? Such a shame. Keep in mind, though, that I can't be all bad."

"And _why _not?" Susan sighed.

"Anyone who can make such a lovely thing as _our _daughter, Susan, can't possibly be that terrible."

Death's granddaughter cocked her head thoughtfully. He _did _have a point there.

"She is something, isn't she?" Susan whispered. She hadn't expected anyone to _hear _her(1).

"Something _wonderful,_" Teatime corrected. "Fate had aged her up when she came to see me, and she sounded _just like _you, Susan. And then she smiled, and she was _just like _me. And then she smiled again, and she looked _just like _you. It was like some kind of magic show, where she kept shifting back and forth. And I just _love _her hair."

Death found himself feeling slightly less agitated with the Assassin.

I LIKE THE WAY SHE COCKS HER HEAD AT EVERYTHING, he added.

"Yes, she looks so _very_ sweetwhen she does that," Teatime agreed readily.

"_Deceptively _so," Susan grumbled.

DO YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT _MY _GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER ISN'T SWEET?! Death called defensively, at exactly the same moment as the Assassin said –

"How could you _possibly _think that _my daughter _isn't the sweetest thing ever to grace the disc, Susan?"

The duchess sighed.

"She's a little devil and you know it."

I THINK NOT!

"I sincerely doubt it."

– they said.

Susan shook her head with a small, amused smile. Her daughter wasn't even a month old, and she already had both men in her life wrapped around her little finger. The disc had better WATCH OUT.

A stab of emptiness, anger, and panic filled her chest as she was reminded that her daughter was _gone_. It was an aching, terrible absence that made her want to scream and tear something (or, better yet, _someone_) apart into tiny little pieces.

And then take those pieces and burn them.

And then take those ashes and put them in acid.

And take the left over mush and freeze it.

And then take the block of ice and dice it into little cubes.

And then take the little cubes and feed them to something with a very, _very _sharp peak.

And before doing all that put a spell on the someone to keep them from dying and make them feel _everything_.

Susan smiled. These were good thoughts.

Teatime was thinking.

"Susan?" he said.

The duchess snapped out of the brutal imagery playing in her mind.

"What, Teatime?" she asked.

He flinched.

"You've said it right _before,_" the Assassin said sadly, confusion obvious in his voice. Susan sighed.

"You were _whining! _What was I supposed to do?"

"Should I whine again? Would _that _make you say my name right?"

Susan paled.

"Teatime!" she called correctly in panic-y desperation. "See? There? _Don't whine!_"

The Assassin grinned.

"Well, Susan, we can't possibly think to steal Charlotte back from the gods. We have to make them _want _to give her back."

"That's a problem…" the schoolteacher mused thoughtfully. "She's a right little monster, but she can be perfectly _lovely _when she wants to."

"…Or," Teatime finished, "or we could do what they want."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I think I'm going to have to find a way to kill you without killing you."

UM, MR. TEATIME, Death said, AS DEATH HIMSELF, I HAVE A PRETTY GOOD IDEA THAT WHEN YOU KILL SOMEONE, YOU _KILL _THEM. TO DEATH.

"Ah, but see, I_ inhume_ for a profession. You deal with _all_ death. I have a bit more experience in this forte." Teatime glanced down at the world below them. "Here's probably a good place to land. The gods aren't _so _very far off, are they?"

"I still don't get why they're in Lancre. I thought they weren't allowed on the disc."

THE GODS DON'T REALLY… ER, 'PLAY FAIR'.

"So you've noticed that too!" Teatime said with an agreeing nod. "It's so _terribly _annoying, isn't it?"

IT IS MOST DEFINITELY UNPLEASANT.

Binky came down to soft grass, and Susan slid off his snowy white back. Teatime and Death followed shortly after, both examining the other.

_SO _YOU'RE _THE FATHER OF MY GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER. YOU, _Death thought.

_So _you're_ the great-grandfather of my daughter, _Teatime thought, shaking his head. _Well, at least you're interesting. Charlotte will be most intrigued by _you.

Susan coughed. The two other's heads snapped to her.

"You were saying…?" she prompted.

"Oh! Thank you for reminding me, Susan," he said with a charmingly terrifying smile. She sighed, noting the small edges of '_Oh my god! Run! RUN!_' that instinctively ran through her head. But that was him for you. "I was thinking that perhaps – "

"On your bloody grave, Daddy!" a new voice called darkly. Everyone whirled around to see Charlotte standing, her hair tangling around her head in a huge, circling mess as she glared at her father with strength of hell's strongest fire. Her hands were clenched into fists and jabbed almost painfully into her hips. Then she grinned in a most Teatime-fashion, her eyes sparkling brightly as she started bouncing up and down. "I'm like Mommy now, Daddy! I'm just like Mommy!"

Teatime's eyes flashed as well, and he was kneeling in front of his daughter before you could say 'hi!'.

"You're _just like _her, Charlotte," he replied with a huge, happy smile.

Susan grabbed the Assassin's coat and flung him away with a strength she didn't know she had as she swept up her daughter into her arms and squeezed the air out of her.

"Baby…" she whispered. "I'm never letting you out of my _sight!_"

Charlotte felt warm, bubbly, and terribly safe. She clutched her mother back, burying her nose Susan's neck. After twenty seconds she got bored and wriggled out of her mother's grasp before turning to Death.

"Hi, granddad!" she chirped brightly with a happy grin, and then opened her arms. "I want to hug you."

Death had lost his dear Ysabell long ago, and now (let's face it) Susan was anything but a _loving _granddaughter. But here was little Charlotte, holding out her arms and wanting _him._ Death would have cried, had he eyes.

I BELIEVE THAT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE, CONSIDERING THE CIRCUMSTANCES. I AM AFRAID THAT I HAVE NOT HAD MUCH PRACTICE, SO PLEASE EXCUSE ME IF I GET IT WRONG, he managed, a little nervous.

Charlotte grinned brightly.

"Don't worry. I haven't had much practice _either_."

She walked over to him, and stretched her arms out further. Death leaned down to hug his great-granddaughter.

Susan felt so whole and so happy now that her daughter was _safe_. She didn't even bother to think about the suspicious circumstances. She was too elated, too close to tears, and too close to ecstasy to care. She whirled around and smiled at the father of her child, and right then, that's all she saw him as. The creator of _Charlotte_, and that made him wonderful.

"She's fine!" she gasped. "She's _safe!_" With that, Susan took a step forwards, wrapped her arms around the Assassin's neck, and smirked. "_Hi,_" she said.

Teatime grinned back at her, and pressed his forehead to hers.

"_Hello, _Susan dear. May I kiss you, or will extreme bodily harm follow?"

"Hmm…" she mused playfully. "Alright… just this once."

She leaned up to kiss him, when an awkward cough sounded.

SUSAN? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

"Oh, don't _ruin _it, Granddad!" Charlotte whined, tugging on his long, black sleeve. "Mommy and Daddy hardly _ever _kiss."

Susan whirled around, stepping away from the Assassin (who visibly dimmed) and throwing a stern glance her daughter's way.

"Do not _whine, _Charlotte. Do you want to be looked at as an _annoying_ _little baby?_ Because that's what whiners are."

Charlotte's shoulders slumped and she stared at her toes.

"No…"

"Then _don't whine_. Are we agreed?"

"Yes, Mommy," she replied dismally.

Teatime's face looked confused.

"Don't talk like that, Susan," the Assassin said. "Look at how sad you've made her!"

Charlotte threw out her lower lip, making it tremble. Susan narrowed her eyes.

"She's playing you, Teatime!"

"Teh-ah-tim-eh, Mommy," the Baby corrected.

Teatime had never, ever, _ever _looked prouder.

There was another cough. Only this one _wasn't _from Death. It wasn't from Teatime, or Susan, or Charlotte. It was from Blind Io, and when everyone slowly turned around, then saw a grouchy Lady, a crabby Fate, a dreamy Astoria, and one eyeless god with hundreds of eyes floating around his head.

"Hate to interrupt, but about now something's supposed to happen," Blind Io said with an apologetic shrug.

SOMETHING? Death asked.

Fate crossed his arms grouchily.

"Teatime knows what we're talking about. _Get it over with_."

Astoria smiled sweetly.

"But you don't want to! You _love _her!"

Susan scoffed. Teatime looked hurt.

"You think me incapable of love?" he asked dejectedly.

She looked him up and down dryly.

"Prove me wrong."

"I _love _Charlotte," the Assassin answered indignantly, crossing his arms. Charlotte beamed, and grabbed his leg happily.

"See, Mommy? Of course Daddy can love! He's _Daddy!_"

"Baby," Susan said firmly, kneeling and meeting her daughter's eyes. "I need you to remember this now and always: your father is one very, _very _dangerous man."

"But _you're _dangerous, too, Mommy! You're _Death's granddaughter, _and you've got a _**Voice**__!_"

Susan blinked. She hadn't quite expected that. Teatime wasn't paying any of this much mind, though.

"Excuse me, sir?" he chirped curiously.

"_What?_" Fate grumbled grouchily.

"Who exactly did you want inhumed?"

The god rolled his empty eyes. Normally, Fate was above such things, but he was really getting annoyed.

"_Susan Sto-Helit._"

"Susan Sto-Helit? You want _Susan Sto-Helit _to cease to exist?"

"Yes!"

"And if Susan Sto-Helit stops existing, I will have completed my service?"

"_Yes!_"

"Are you _sure?_"

Fate huffed.

"Yes! I'm sure! I've _said _so!"

"And what if I poisoned her now, but it took a couple weeks for it to come into effect?" Teatime asked the god. "Will that still count as me inhuming her now?"

"_Yes, _fine, so long as you start it _now_."

"So it doesn't matter how long this start of ending Susan Sto-Helit's existence takes, so long as it is in a reasonable amount of time and I start it _now?_"

"Daddy..." Charlotte called nervously, tugging on his black trenchcoat. "_Daddy_... Daddy, what are you talking about? It doesn't sound good... _Daddy_..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, but ignored her words.

"_Yes_, yes. I've said _yes_," the god called.

"And when I complete this, who will you make immortal?"

"Who do you think?" the god snarled.

"A name, please, I'd like a _name,_" the Assassin replied.

"Teatime!"

"You'll make _Teatime _immortal?" he asked.

"Since when did you refer to yourself in the third person? Please, Mr. Teatime, just get it over with!"

"But are you _sure? _I just want to make certain that there is no misunderstanding, here," he said simply.

"YES! I'm _SURE! _Now DO IT!" Fate demanded.

Teatime grinned.

"Most certainly," he replied, then stepped up to Susan, who was glaring at him coldly. "Hi, Susan dear," he said brightly. "Will you marry me?"

There was a dead, blunt, quiet silence as everyone tried to come to grips with what exactly had just been said. Well, almost a perfect silence. Charlotte clapped excitedly.

"Say yes, Mommy! Say _yes!_" she squealed happily. The thought of her wonderful mother and sweet daddy actually marrying was just too perfect. They could be so _happy _together. They could be a real pretend _family!_

"_What?!_" Susan sputtered. "_What _did you just say?"

"Do you want to get married? To me? Sometime soon?" he chirped cheerfully.

"You're supposed to be killing her!" Fate blazed angrily.

"But that'sjust what I'm _doing!_" Teatime protested, turning to the god and leaving Susan choking on the air in shock behind him. "If she marries me, she'll be Susan Teatime. Susan Sto-Helit will be_ gone _forever, just, like, _that;_" he snapped for emphasis.

"How _romantic!_" Astoria squealed.

"So if I don't marry you, you'll kill me?" Susan managed, trying to find some malevolence in his actions since there just _had _to be.

"I sincerely doubted you'd say _no, _Susan," he answered. "Think about Charlotte. Who knows what Fate will do to her if I don't comply."

That wasn't exactly an answer, but for her daughter's sake, the duchess didn't continue in that direction.

"Why don't I marry someone else? Like Lobsang? Then I wouldn't be Susan Sto-Helit anymore, either," she tried.

Charlotte looked about ready to screech(2), but her father interrupted her before she could. Instead, the Baby pouted. She didn't like being ignored, but important things seemed to be going on. She'd save screaming for when she could get some _real _attention and wouldn't be bypassed for more 'important' things.

"_I _have to be the one to do it, Susan," he answered logically. "If you marry someone else, it won't be _me _inhuming you. Besides, doesn't _Susan Teatime _have such a _nice _ring to it? Much better than Susan _Ludd_, don't you think?"

"You could _marry _me to him; play the part of the judge," she suggested.

Teatime's eyes narrowed.

"Susan, there are only two parts I might play in _your _wedding. The groom, or – "

THE MAN OBJECTING WHEN THE JUDGE ASKS FOR SOMEONE TO SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD THEIR PEACE? Death guessed.

"Close," Teatime said encouragingly. "But not quite."

"The one slowly gutting the groom and slitting his throat open and scalping him and hanging him with his own intestines the night before?" Charlotte suggested curiously.

The Assassin nodded, his expression filled with pride.

"_Exactly, _Susanette," he said. "You're so _very _clever."

Charlotte beamed as Susan slammed her face into her hands, groaning.

"Let me go over my options," the schoolteacher said sardonically. "I can get married to you, get married to someone else who will turn up dead before I have a chance to marry him, or _die? _There's got to be another way out this!"

Teatime looked hurt.

"Does marrying me really seem that bad?"

Susan sighed. She thought about a day, so long, long ago, before that fateful morning when she'd found those mutilated bodies... If he'd asked her _then, _she would have said yes. Why did he have to ask her _now? _Why'd she have to _find _those stupid corpses and then be morally obliged to have nothing to do with him? Why'd she have to fall in love with a bloody(3) psychopath, anyhow? Her head was spinning. But it all came down to one thing:

"If I marry you, Charlotte won't be a Sto-Helit anymore," she shook her head sternly. "I'm _not _letting you win _that _battle! I get this _one thing!_"

"But then she won't be immortal, Susan," Teatime explained patiently. "Don't you want her to be? Fate promised to make _Teatime _immortal, and if we're all Teatimes, there won't be a distinction."

Charlotte clapped excitedly, squealing in glee.

"Yay! I never have to get all old and wrinkly! Yay!" she jumped for emphasis, then turned, beaming, to her grandfather. "Did you hear that, Granddad? I'll never, ever, ever have to die and I'll never, ever, ever have to leave you! Isn't that _grand, _Granddad?!"

Death beamed at his little girl (yes, she was _his _little girl now). Then it all hit him.

YOU WANT TO MARRY MY GRANDDAUGHTER!? he called incredulously, turning to the Assassin.

Charlotte scowled. She wanted _attention_.

"See?!" Susan called. "See, Granddad would never approve! It can't happen!"

"Yes," Teatime answered, ignoring Death's granddaughter. "Very, very much."

"You're supposed to be killing her!" Fate repeated angrily.

The Lady smirked in satisfaction, getting _quite _an amount of enjoyment from all this chaos.

Death grumbled incomprehensibly.

IT'S TIME YOU AND I HAD A NICE, LONG TALK, YOUNG MAN. COME, MR. TEH-AH-TIM-EH.

"Excuse me?!" Susan called. "I think he and _I _need to be doing the talking at the moment, Granddad!"

YOU CAN WAIT, SUSAN. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

"Important?" Teatime asked curiously, following the cloaked figure.

Charlotte grinned evilly at her mother.

"See, Mommy? _That's _how it feels to be _ignored!_"

Susan harrumphed, plopping on the floor.

"Up for a game of rock, paper, scissors, Astoria?" Blind Io asked. "This could take a while."

Over in the corner, Death was sizing up Teatime. Teatime had already sized up Death long ago, and was examining the scenery idly while he waited. At last, the reaper spoke.

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO SUSAN IF THE AUDITORS OF REALITY CAME AT HER FOR REVENGE? he asked.

"They'd get some auditing," he replied cheerfully.

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO SUSAN IF SHE BECAME SERIOUSLY PEEVED AND TRIED TO KILL YOU?

Teatime thought for a few seconds.

"She'd probably end up even more peeved when she failed, and then a while later very happy."

WHY HAPPY?

"Because I'll have done something sweet to make her smile and make up for it." The Assassin grinned brightly, "I can make her smile, you know. I do so love it when she does. I always feel proud."

WHAT HAPPENS TO THE RANDOM PERSON WHO HAS A DREAM OF DOING SOMETHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HURT SUSAN IN SOME WAY?

"He's stalked. And if that dream should ever happen to become something... _more, _he's threatened. And if that doesn't work out... he's _dead_."

Death nodded thoughtfully.

AND SUSAN. UNDERNEATH THE LAYER OF 'THE WORLD IS A GREAT LOAD OF LOUD, SCREAMING LITTLE CHILDREN THAT NEEDS TO BE WHIPPED INTO SHAPE _BY ME_' AND GROUCHINESS, WHAT EMOTION, PRESUMING YOU BOTH WORK OUT, WILL BE DOMINENT IN HER LIFE?

Teatime furrowed his brow and cocked his head.

"I feel like I'm in school, being given a quiz by a teacher again. It's an odd feeling."

YOU ARE, Death mumbled.

"Oh. Happiness, then. That and slight annoyance, but we both know that she likes to be."

IT CERTAINLY _SEEMS _LIKE IT... the reaper mused.

"Have I passed?"

Death paused, thinking. Finally, he nodded.

VERY WELL. Susan could probably do better, but... but, let's face it; he'd take care of her, and, deep down, he had a hunch that he made her happy. Death nodded again, with a charmingly smiling Assassin trailing behind him as he came back to Susan. GRANDDAUGHTER, I APPROVE.

"You _WHAT?_" she shrieked.

Death sighed.

IF THIS IS REALLY WHAT YOU WANT, YOU HAVE MY BLESSING.

"But – but...!"

Teatime grinned.

"See, Susan? No obstacle there, now! What do you say?"

Suddenly and without warning, he was behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder curiously. Susan let out a long, exasperated breath, looking up at the sky with her eyes shut tight(4).

"And no one will ever, _ever_ bug you about getting married _again_," he added.

Susan smiled, remembering the ball long ago, where he'd pretended that he was going to ask her to marry him in order to get her out. A warm, happy feeling filled her, and she remembered with a twinge of embarrassment when they'd step danced on the tables later that night (er, when _she _had). She remembered sipping cocoa and ranting at him, she remembered dueling and fighting with him. She remembered it so clearly and strongly, and she remembered how much she'd missed him. It'd been so... so _nice _to see him again, as much as she'd hated it. Having him around, him being _there_. Her Jonathan Teatime.

She sighed dryly, leaning back into the Assassin behind her.

"Well, since I don't have a choice in that matter... I guess we'll have to, then," she said at last, taking his hand in hers and twining their fingers together.

"There's _always _a choice, Susan," he answered softly.

"Well, I darn well choose _you_."

"Really?" Teatime sounded disbelieving, excited, happy, elated, and joyous.

Susan raised a brow.

"I thought you expected me to say yes."

Now there was bewilderment mixed into his tone, with all the others still present.

"Yes, yes I did..." he answered. "But I feel so... so... you did! But wait, you really _haven't..._" he paused slyly, smirking. "_What _is your answer, Susan? Will you marry me?"

"I guess I must."

"_No, _Susan – _yes, _or _no?_ _Will you marry me?_"

She laughed, stood, stepped forwards, and turned on him with a fiery glare.

"Jonathan Teatime!" she growled, taking a step towards him warningly, then she smiled, softening and looking almost warm. "Yes. _Yes, _I would love to marry you. Yes, I want to be with you, and raise our daughter, and I love you."

She hadn't meant to say that last bit. It'd just come out. She half regretted it, but oh well. If she wasgoing to have to _marry _the lout, she supposed it had to be said at some point. Susan raised her chin defiantly, hoping to keep some shred of dignity. Next thing she knew he was holding her face tightly – almost _too _tightly – and kissing her. A few seconds later he pulled back and pressed his forehead to hers.

"I love you, too, Susan," he replied softly. "I really, really, do."

"I win!" the Lady called. "See, I WIN!"

"No, I WON!" Fate argued. "He's _killing __Susan Sto-Helit!_"

"Love prevailed!" Astoria squealed. "See? _Love!_ They declared their _love!_"

Charlotte clapped happily.

"Daddy and Mommy _love _each other! I'm so happy! You're getting _married! _I want to be the flower-girl!" She jumped excitedly, up and down and up again like a bouncy spring.

Susan blinked, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. She'd forgotten about the audience. The schoolteacher coughed awkwardly.

"We should probably go," Teatime whispered, "before the gods decide who won and who lost. They might realize that they want to_ play _some more with us, and right _now,_" he said with a wry grin, "we've got a wedding to plan!"

Susan groaned. _What _had she gotten herself into?!

"But we can't go yet," the schoolteacher remembered, grabbing Teatime's arm. "We've got to fix Charlotte."

The Assassin's brow furrowed.

"What could _possibly _be wrong with Charlotte?" he asked.

HOW COULD ANYTHING BE THE MATTER WITH MY GREAT-GRANDDAUGHTER? Death asked in a befuddled tone.

"Something's _wrong _with me, Mommy?" Charlotte herself pouted.

"Well, for starters, you're over three and a half years older than you should be," Susan pointed out. Her daughter paled as she stepped back, shaking her head.

NO! she called. NO! "Mommy, please," she begged, "please don't make me a baby again! I don't want to have to wear a diaper! I don't want to not be able to think straight or talk! At least this way I can tell you why I'm upset and don't have to worry about you figuring it out!"

But Susan wasn't listening to her daughter's pleas. All she could think was:

"You used the **Voice**!" the duchess call proudly, sweeping up her daughter into her arms. She turned to the Assassin, beaming. "See, Teatime? She used the _**Voice**__!_"

Teatime grinned himself, and took the little girl from Susan's arms, smiling at her proudly.

"'Atta girl..." he said softly. "That's a _very _good girl."

She glanced back and forth apprehensively.

"Does this mean you won't make me a baby again?" she asked hopefully.

Susan smiled at her daughter comfortingly, and stroked her cheek softly.

"No," she answered in a kind(5) voice. "Nope, I got robbed of the first four years of my daughter's life. I want them _back_. So I'm sorry, Charlotte love, but you're going to have to grow up on you own time."

Charlotte stuck out her lower lip and pouted.

"But _Mmmmoooooo-mmmmmyyyyyyyy..._" she whined.

"What'd your mother tell you about whining, Charlotte?" Teatime chastised with a huge, happy grin. It couldn't really be counted as 'chastising', with how cheerfully he said it, but oh well.

"Well, since apparently I _am _going to be an annoying little baby, I want to whine!" she harrumphed crabbily. Susan exchanged a glance with Teatime, who cocked his head dismissively. She shrugged.

"Alright, sweet thing; if that makes you happy."

Charlotte buried her face in her father's shoulder grouchily.

I BELIEVE I CAN FIX THIS, Death said. He took one long look at his great-granddaughter. MAY I HAVE ONE FINAL EMBRACE BEFORE I RETURN YOU TO YOUR NORMAL STATE, SMALL HUMAN?

The little girl wriggled out of her father's arms and hit the ground lithely before spreading her own.

"Okay," she pouted.

Death hugged her, then stood, and pulled out an hourglass. He tapped it, watching as it glowed purple, and Charlotte stuck out her lower lip as she shrank into a small baby. Susan picked her up, and smiled down at the child's tiny face.

"My little girl..."

"_Our _little girl," Teatime corrected.

Susan looked up and smiled at him. She always felt good about the Assassin when she thought of him as the father of her child.

"Mmhmm, _our _little Charlotte."

Teatime grinned back at her, feeling terribly happy that Susan wasn't extremely annoyed with him.

MINE TOO? Death asked hopefully.

Susan laughed.

"Oh, fine. She can be yours as well."

Death beamed as he swung across Binky's back in a billowing black sweep.

COME THEN, MR. TEATIME, SUSAN, AND MY CHARLOTTE. LET US EACH RETURN TO OUR RESPECTIVE DWELLINGS.

Which, of course, translates to "let's go home" in Death-speak.

*

Susan paced the living room of her apartment deliriously.

"_Hush, little baby, don't you cry..._" she sang, attempting to silence the shrieking child in her arms. She was so tired, it was after 3:00AM, and she couldn't get the baby to GO TO SLEEP. "This is your revenge, isn't it?!" she called angrily, giving up on the singing. It wasn't working. "You're doing this to get back at me for making you a baby again, aren't you?!"

"I could do it for you, Susan," Teatime offered. "I could hold Charlotte, if you like. You could sleep."

Susan looked up at the Assassin, and thought, right about then, that he had never looked so darn attractive, and that she had never loved him so darn much. Suddenly, marrying Jonathan Teatime seemed like a _good _idea. She passed the screaming child into the other's arms, and crawled into bed. Approximately ten minutes later, Teatime entered the room, and lied down beside Susan, smiling at her and meeting her eyes.

"The baby...?" she asked curiously as she stirred awake.

"Oh, Charlotte's perfectly happy!" he replied brightly. Susan was too exhausted to be suspicious(6) and smiled.

"_You're _my hero, Jonathan," she said.

He grinned.

"I think that's the first time you've called me by my first name since I've told you."

"Mmhmm, me too. I think I might start doing it more often. It won't do to go calling my husband by his last name."

"No, it wouldn't," he agreed. "Especially since it'll be _yours, _too." Teatime leaned forwards and kissed her before she could think twice.

"I'm very tired, Jonathan," Susan said when he pulled away.

"I'll wake you up," was his only reply.

Two hours later, Susan wondered where she'd gotten all _that _energy from.

*

About a month later, with wedding plans well underway, Susan's hair knotted in and out of itself nervously in a misty, wild halo about her face. It hadn't been this out of control in a couple months shy of a year, but she wasn't paying that much mind. She paced her apartment frantically, her steps rough, quick, and panicked. She was feeling sick, like she was going to throw up, and she didn't like it.

Susan opened up her calendar and hurriedly double checked the dates.

"This isn't possible," she hissed. "It _isn't possible!_"

Just to be sure that she wasn't imagining things, she weighed herself on the magical scale again. She hadn't been. Susan sat on the couch, breathing in deeply and trying to calm her racing heart. It couldn't be. IT COULDN'T BE!

Teatime came out from the kitchen, where he'd been making her some waffles with strawberries and cocoa. He was an excellent cook, Susan realized, and she was really liking that one aspect of living with him. The minute she realized he could actually _make her food _(_gourmet _food that he _enjoyed _making, at that), she had looked at him seriously and said; "Why didn't you say so before? We'd already _BE_ married!".

"Good morning, Susan darling!" he chimed cheerfully, coming around the counter and sitting beside her. "Are you all right?"

She grabbed his shoulders direly.

"I'M PREGNANT!"

He grinned.

"Again?! Oh, joy! Another little Teatime!"

Susan groaned.

In a red velvet bassinet, Charlotte clapped excitedly. She might not be able to understand Ankh-Morporkian very well anymore, but she knew that tone of voice when she heard it – she'd spent _nine months _listening to it. So Charlotte was getting a new sibling – how _fun!_

"What am I going to do?!" the duchess sobbed. "One's more than I can handle, Jonathan! She's sucking the life out of me!"

Teatime placed a hand on her stomach proudly.

"This one will be a _he, _so don't worry about that_._"

Suddenly, Susan felt defensive and bristled.

"It'll be a girl, I'm sure! A sister for Charlotte."

"No," Teatime's eyes flashed excitedly; "I'm most _certain _that this one will be a boy."

Up above, four gods watched in amusement. The Lady grinned.

"I'm betting a girl. Any takers?" she asked.

(1)Which might have been a little silly, considering that she was sandwiched between the other two.

(2)Her world of perfect dinners with her daddy and mommy making soup together and black, happy weddings with Death for the priest was crashing down around her!

(3)Often times literally.

(4)As long as she couldn't _see _the sky, she could pretend it held some answer that when she opened her eyes she could see. If she opened her eyes, she'd see there was none, and she didn't think she could handle that right then.

(5)By Susan standards.

(6)The next morning, one Teatime was in _big trouble _when one Susan found a mobile of knives circling – just out of reach – her baby's head.


End file.
